God Make Me A Stone
by devilishlysas
Summary: Sylar gets his revenge for losing his body; but it has dire consequences for Claire and the Sullivan carnival troupe. Takes place after Season 4 Shadowboxing using Brother's Keeper and Thanksgiving spoilers R/NC-17 .
1. Chapter 1

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Summary: **Sylar gets his revenge for losing his body; but it has dire consequences for Claire and the Sullivan carnival troupe. Takes place after Season 4 Shadowboxing using Brother's Keeper and Thanksgiving spoilers (R/NC-17).

**Chapter 1**

There was no need for words, so he stood and simply absorbed the scorching hate in her eyes as she glared up at him from her broken position on her knees, as blood dripped from her fingers to the floor. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Sylar paused watching the trace of the tear that ran along her jaw... no now it was perfect. Claire Bennet bloody and broken on her knees in front of him, her precious father still warm as his blood pooled around her from the ugly wound in his chest. It had taken the bastard so long to die, and he'd enjoyed every agonised minute as he'd forced Claire's hand to twist the blade just that little bit deeper, happy to let her scream and sob whilst she killed him regardless of her own will.

Her eyes dropped his, looking at the floor and deliberately avoiding the bodies; but the blood pools were mingling around her and she couldn't help the shudder that wracked her whole body, causing her to wretch. He spared her that at least, as she gagged, turning her head away and trying to keep the rest of her body as far out of the rapidly cooling sticky red patches as she could manage.

Sylar took the moment to take in his work, Angela's body lay prone, her head split open and her heart carved out; he'd been surprised to find she had one. She'd been first of course, the easiest for Claire to manage; she'd only had to fight the urge to vomit once with her grandmother's death. Matt was still exactly as he'd left him, slumped in his chair, blood dripping out of his eyes and ears... a battle of wills he'd never stood a chance at winning; he'd been dead long before he'd had Claire slit his throat. The Haitian hadn't gone easily, he'd been unconscious for the majority of it, his power unable to hinder his work that way; but the moment he'd awoken it had been like trying to wrestle a bear with your hands. Fortunately dear Renée had been less than willing to make Claire suffer for his wickedness, he apparently hadn't had the heart to turn off the ability of the poor helpless girl attempting to hack him to pieces with no regard for her own safety, which was somewhat more of a concern without her ability. In the end he'd opened his arms and held her close as she drove the blade again and again into his gut, whispering words of forgiveness and support against her blood stained, tear soaked cheeks.

Noah had been last and Claire had fought him with every inch of will she possessed, it had surprised him that it was almost enough, the blade had hesitated, paused in the downward motion, glancing off his shoulder instead of hitting the chest smoothly. Bennet probably hadn't appreciated the blade into the painful nerve cluster, but Claire seemed to find encouragement in it. She'd kept up the desperate idea that she could stop him right until the moment he'd had her reach into her father's gaping chest and pull out his heart. That should have been the end of her fight, he'd felt crushing despair steal over her with frightening speed as she'd collapsed slumped against the wall, staring at her bloodied hands. She'd wanted to cut them off... he'd have let her, but it would have been counterproductive given as they'd just grow back.

Sylar returned his attention to Claire's face, she was staring blankly at the remains of the turkey on the table; he had a fair idea that it would be the last Thanksgiving she'd ever attend.

"Look on the bright side Claire." He smiled, crossing to her and stooping to crouch beside her as he brushed the hair behind her ear, leaving a red smudge on her paler than usual skin. She flinched and he smirked, at least there was some fight left in her he mused, even it was a little shell shocked right now. "Pete's still alive... granted that scar has made him somewhat less pretty, but he didn't have to see you do this; he won't hate you for at least another few days when he's well enough to drag himself out of the hospital and straight to the funerals."

Her lips pressed into a thin line and her hand balled into a fist, but she remained silent, Matt's stolen ability let him see her imagining all the terrible things Peter would say when he watched the security footage; of the way he'd look now, forever ruined by Sylar. She almost wished she had a similar scar, something that would show people outwardly the kind of pain she must have endured, the horror's she'd seen; that would excuse the cold look in her eye without further explanation.

Sylar smiled wistfully, raising her chin and tracing his finger diagonally across her face from her right eye down to her lip, in a mockery of the slash he'd aimed at Peter before the fight had even begun. A tear leaked out of her eye and she pulled out of his grasp, sucking in a shuddering breath as she told herself over and over that she didn't care what he did to her now, that he'd done his worst; he couldn't hurt her further.

"You're so wrong Claire-bear." He chuckled, catching her chin again more forcefully and dragging her face back to meet his. "This was just the beginning."

"Monster!" she snarled at him, finding her voice at last, he'd wondered if she'd screamed herself hoarse earlier, but apparently it had simply been shock. Her hand raised in an attempt to claw at him, but he caught her hands deftly by the wrists, the loud crack from both didn't even produce a flicker of response from her.

"I am what your family made me Claire." He smirked at the twist of agony in her expression at the reminder of the family she'd had so recently. Two fathers, a grandmother and an Uncle who was still whole.

"Just leave." She spat at him, dropping her head in apparent defeat, but he wasn't foolish enough to release her. "You've had your revenge, their blood is on my hands, so why don't you just leave and stop forcing me to look at you."

Sylar paused, appearing to give it thought, when in reality his plan had solidified the moment she had walked in with Bennet earlier. No there was only one plan now, one way to go with this, she was his. It was a strange he'd only realised he'd wanted her for more than her ability mere hours before his 'death' what seemed like so long ago now back in that hotel room. But once the realisation had hit him, it was unshakeable, the idea of her with him forever, her golden flawless skin unchanging. That bitter will corrupted and blackened by years of torment at his hands; her hateful mouth but to better use than merely describing the ways she'd kill him. She'd always been special, unique, but it had taken him some time to realise that she might be... corruptible; breakable.

"Did I break your heart Claire?" he asked her softly, watching as her soft face rose to meet his satisfied smirk; those eyes of hers hardening to emerald sheens.

"I hate you." She told him coolly, the words tinged with acid; but the words simply didn't do the intensity of her feelings for him justice; he would be in her head every day for the rest of her life.

"For now." He replied, pulling her up to her feet and finally releasing her wrists to allow them to slide back into place and heal.

"Always." She swore, meaning it. He had always appreciated a challenge.

"How about a deal Claire..." he watched her eyes narrow to slits as she glared at him, her eye line kept intently on him and not the bloodied bodies.

"You have nothing I want." Claire pointed out insolently; oddly certain of that, but he'd forgive her short sightedness, because despite her best efforts to avoid it, to be strong, she really was going into shock.

"I have Peter's life." He pointed out, sliding a hand around her waist to catch her before her legs gave way to the trembling that was taking over her whole body. She only protested mildly at the enforced contact, her hands catching his forearms in an attempt to keep herself upright. "Or how about sweet Sandra?" he pressed as she began to struggle for breath, close to hyperventilating. "What would it feel like to slip a blade into her gut Claire... to watch the life drain out of her eyes, your pretty face twisted in hate and rage, the last thing she see's?" It was cruel, even he knew that, but it was effective, she went as white as a sheet, her legs gave up all pretences of supporting her and she collapsed against him; too shocked to do more than stare blankly. "Then there's _Larry_." He continued relentless, deliberately using the moniker he'd given the pathetic excuse for a brother she had.

"Stop it." She whispered; her voice barely more than a croak; but her mind had begun to creep past the numbness and was spiralling into panic as she shoved uselessly against his chest.

"Certainly Claire... if you're willing to make a deal for their lives?" It wasn't a fair fight, not really, it never was; he almost pitied her... almost; only he was far too pleased with her for making this so straightforward.

Her head rose and she pierced him with that unnervingly cold stare of hers, searching for his intent; but apparently finding nothing as she dropped her head away again after only seconds, her shoulders sagging. "What do you want?" she bit off, sounding for all the world like she honestly couldn't care less; which was of course a lie, but it was quickly becoming apparent that she simply had no idea the extent of his growing obsession with her.

Sylar grasped her chin in one hand, holding almost all of her weight up with the other, forcing her to see his eyes when he spoke. "You." She blinked, waiting for the punch line, the conditions, something... more; he almost smiled at the notion that she would need to offer him anything else.

"Why?" she muttered, her self esteem had clearly taken a beating at college, because she was genuinely confused.

"Do we have a deal or not Claire?" he pressed, wanting her to say it.

Her pause seemed to last minutes not seconds as she scoured every inch of his face, every line and contour there only increasing the seething, blinding all consuming hate she felt for him. Her thoughts were so chaotic and twisted that it was almost painful to be in her mind.

"Fine!" She snapped, knowing he'd want her to say she was 'his' and refusing to play that game. He'd have pressed any other time, but she knew what she was saying; what her 'fine' really meant and so did he. Of course she had no idea the extent to which he was about to test her love for her family... how much she'd tolerate before she simply snapped and told him to 'have at them', which he was certain she'd get to eventually, but it was going to be fun finding out.


	2. Chapter 2

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 2**

Sylar's arms were like a steel vice around her as he pressed her against his solid chest, the warmth of his body only making hers want to shiver violently. But she had no choice as he raised his palm, a small dull metal object sat in the middle, she recognised the compass as identical to Becky's; it spun wildly now, twirling on its axis as if the earth was spinning with it. She closed her eyes feeling the tug of motionless motion, that feeling of nothingness she'd experienced only once when Hiro had teleported her through time. Sound and the sense of up and down returned forcing her eyes open, she blinked them shut, the harsh lights that danced and the thrum of people and machinery... of life pressed in around her, threatening to make her scream in desperation. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that life got to go on whilst her father... her family were in ruins. But life was never fair, it was something she was beginning to realise; that good wouldn't always triumph, that monsters didn't exist, that she could have a normal life...nothing was true anymore, it was all just a pretty fairytale; designed to keep you sane.

The laughter and music of the carnival threatened to make her wretch, a feeling only intensified by Sylar's proximity, or the metallic smell of the blood that coated them both. A face appeared out of the side of one of the small tents, the slippery eel like quality of Samuel only worsened by his surroundings as he beckoned them closer. Sylar pushed her towards him, barely having to exert any effort as her feet propelled her, anything to put even a fraction of space between their bodies. Sylar led her like he knew where he was going, like he'd been here before, drawing them back behind the mask of the Carnival, to reveal the freaks. Trailers sprawled all around them, faces peering out, all intent on the two of them as they made their way forward.

Samuel stopped beside a heavily tattooed blonde woman, who was accompanied by a, stocky rugged looking man twirling a knife between his fingers with inhuman speed. Samuel beckoned them closer, his arms wide and welcoming. Claire tried not to think, to simply follow Sylar's lead for now, her head was so foggy it was hard to even think straight, she wanted the rage and the hate that had kept her going earlier; but instead all she felt was hollow, dull and lifeless.

"So the prodigal son returns." Samuel declared, clearly wanting the curious audience to hear. "Sylar's back I take it?" he grinned thinly above her head and she got the distinct impression that he was trying not to look at her. But it didn't matter, everyone else it appeared had eyes only for her and she saw her reflection in their eyes, the bloodied, broken girl with dead eyes in the arms of a monster. Once it would have been enough to spark the fight in her, instead it only made her curl further in on herself in shame and self loathing at what Sylar had turned her into.

"In the flesh." Sylar replied laughing quietly at his own joke as he took in the fearful curious faces that were slowly emerging from all corners. The eerie lights of the carnival and the fires blazing in the dark moonless night gave it all a surreal dreamlike quality that only helped her distance herself further from what was happening.

"And I see you brought a souvenir back from your travels?" Samuel continued, clearly oblivious to her inner, spiralling descent into a catatonic state. "I'd imagine she cost you a pretty penny." There was an edge to his tone now, the joviality hiding the darker edge she'd sensed meeting him for the first time in her brightly lit dorm room.

"Oh nothing that a little blood, sweat and tears couldn't earn me." Sylar quipped his arm encircling her waist tighter, a threat implied somewhere, but she was too folded in on herself to focus clearly.

"So why you have returned?" Samuel pressed, that sharp tone still in place, forcing her eyes up to see his face, his lips pressed into a thin line, but she couldn't tell if it was through anger or fear. "Brother..." he added quietly; clearly Sylar had spent time with these people enough for him to become a part of this fucked up little _family_.

"Well you said this was a family, a place to call home... sanctuary." Sylar replied just as smoothly, clearly there was something unspoken occurring between the two of them.

"And you'd bring it all down over our heads with this!" Samuel replied quickly, the tension in the small group rising exponentially, she could feel it raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She'd always had a sixth sense about this sort of thing, danger had always followed her, the bad things that weren't supposed to happen to normal people always seemed to find her; she knew when it was about to happen again.

"Oh I doubt it. There's no one left to come looking for our precious Claire-bear," his hands rose to her shoulders squeezing gently as if reminding her that she was still in this conversation... however peripherally. "Besides Claire and I have a deal." His lips pressed against her hair and she sucked in a sharp breath in surprise, a wave of nausea so powerful it almost made her double over struck her at the feel of it. The idea that he could touch her whenever he wanted and she couldn't stop him was sickening.

The tattooed blonde woman gave Sylar a sharp look, her lip twisting in barely disguised distain, "Really? She doesn't seem to be able to say much of anything at the moment, let alone think clearly enough to make a deal."

Sylar let out a bark of laughter that she probably should have jumped at, but she wasn't even capable of doing that. "Oh don't tell me you've grown a conscience Lydia in the week I've been away?" The woman, 'Lydia' was silent, but some of the confidence had drained out of her features. "You all wanted the _real_ Sylar, wanted the monster to act as guard dog for your little family. Well you have him, only now Sylar comes as a package deal. One super powered serial killer, one indestructible cheerleader, all for the price of Bennet's head." His grip intensified as if expecting a reaction from her, "It's on the floor beside's the turkey in the Petrelli dining room if you're interested."

The barb struck deep, she reacted before she'd even thought about it, which was perhaps why it worked so well; he couldn't read her thoughts if she didn't have any. Her head crashed back into his, she heard the crack of bone and felt the warm spray of blood against her face as Sylar let out a pained sound and his grip on her shoulders intensified; he exerted his influence over her again, wrenching her body out of her control and into his again. She could have gone several lifetimes without having to feel so trapped and helpless again.

Lydia took an almost reflexive step towards her, her arm outstretched as if to help her, surprisingly enough Samuel moved almost to mimic the action, but caught himself.

"Shhh." Sylar whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple and stroking her hair as if it would soothe her. He lifted his eyes to Samuel. "Claire's had a stressful day, I think it would be best if she got some rest," his hand caught in the dried blood in her hair, "and maybe a shower."

Lydia drifted forwards her arms out as if to take her from him, guide her away to safety, "She'll stay with me, I'll get her cleaned up." Claire almost dared to hope that Sylar would hand her over to this unknown woman's care; anything would be better than his. But he didn't even dignify her with a response, just forced her to place one foot in front of the other, stalking away from them with a smirk on his lips and his hand around the back of her neck, guiding and possessive all at once.

She had no reason to trust him at his word; that he would honour their 'deal'... except that Sylar had never lied to her, not once. Of course the moment it no longer suited him, or she became difficult she was certain the terms would change, more demands would be made, but for now, what was left of her family was safe. If she had to measure their lives in days, weeks, months then she would, anything was better than nothing.

"It's good to be home." Sylar called behind him to the others, mocking, as he reached a silver trailer... clearly his. "Ours." He corrected, his fingers brushing feather light over her cheek. "Home sweet home Claire-bear; at least for a little while." He swept her up into his arms without hesitation, their eyes locked for a brief second, long enough for the hate to stir inside of her again at what he was insinuating; before he stepped very deliberately over the threshold of his trailer doorway with her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The silence was something he wasn't honestly expecting, Claire Bennet was never quiet, although he supposed he could forgive her the lapse in usual behaviour. He handed her a towel and gestured to the small bathroom in the trailer, there was no hot water, but he doubted she'd care. Surprisingly she took the towel without comment and spared him a blank look before spinning abruptly and sliding the bathroom door closed. He smirked, it wasn't like she could escape in there; he could hear everything she did and everything she was thinking. At the moment her overwhelming thought was expected, '_please just let him leave me alone in here, please. I can't stand it when he touches me. Please just not today, not after everything.'_

He sighed uneasily and flopped back onto the small, mostly uncomfortable bed that doubled as a sofa. The reality of having her here, trapped with him was strikingly different from the imagined; strangely enough some of his bravado seemed to flee him. Unlike anyone else Claire Bennet had the ability to make him feel like the pathetic watchmaker in one breath and then the homicidal serial killer the next. It was that lack of consistency he hated around her, that she made him... confused. Right now his baser instinct was at war with the boy who'd liked tweed and oddly enough tweed was winning.

Of course that probably had something to do with the breakdown she was having behind the closed door under the steady stream of water that masked her sobs; but not her mind. He winced almost able to feel the agony she felt when the images assaulted her, but it was her father's face she kept lingering on, her father's face that would haunt her as he'd choked out his last breath, clutching for her as if to make it all better. What was odd was the way she had of coping, pain wasn't something her body was accustomed to, even before he'd tampered with her brain it had been a fleeting thing. But right now her whole body was in agony, torn and shredded, convulsing and writhing internally against no obvious cause. Her body was fixing it the only way it knew how, it was cutting off her senses, cutting her off from the memories that were causing her pain. It was a strange thing, to listen and experience her inner battle to keep the god awful pain of her family's death, of the murder's he'd forced her hands to commit. But it was a losing battle and her will was already broken today; the memories locked themselves away from her conscious mind whilst endorphins flooded her system, picking it back up to its usual peppy self. Oh she wouldn't have forgotten, but the exact look on her father's face, the way the blood had felt sliding over her hands, the sound of his rattled breathing, all of that was safely buried for now.

Extraordinary. The Claire Bennet survival mechanism for all the Sylar moments in her life, in action.

She emerged from the shower dripping wet, she had only the towel, her original clothes were so blood splattered he wasn't surprised she'd left them in the shower. She paused staring down at his relaxed pose, seemingly frozen in place, her back ramrod straight as she clearly expected trouble.

He patted the empty side of the bed. "Sit." He instructed scrutinising her.

_'I'm not a dog!' _her inner snarl caused a flicker of amusement to reach his lips and he cocked his head at her, beckoning now with his finger.

"Please." he countered, the tone of his voice not having altered at all, it wasn't a request. It would have been easier to keep the mental reigns over her, but he preferred the challenge.

Hesitantly she slid across the small floor space, until she could ease herself down on the edge, the towel clutched around her like a shield as she stared rigidly ahead. He shifted fractionally and she almost bolted.

"If you touch me, I swear to god I'll throw up." She hissed, not daring to look at him.

Sylar felt the smile tug at the corner of his lips as he leant forward and deliberately brushed the hair off the shoulder closest to him, revealing the skin to his hungry gaze. "You've never thrown up anything a day in your life Claire. You don't even have a gag reflex... until today that is." He let the tips of his fingers trace the outline of her collarbone, to her neck and then jaw, brushing along it feather light until he passed her ear.

"This wasn't part of our deal." She bit off arching away from his touch.

Irritation stirred in him, she was here, now, his and still there were obstacles, not in the least, the woman-child herself.

"The deal was I get you." Sylar reminded her, reaching once more for her and not letting her slide away as he traced a wet curl down her spine enjoying the shiver it caused. "Every fascinating inch of you." He added twitching his fingers so that she was thrown back against the mattress, left to stare up at his looming form.

"Don't." She breathed; truly terrified now, of not only what she expected would happen, but of what her reaction would be, she couldn't be sure and she wanted to be strong, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down when he raped her. "Please." She added, clearly not above begging at this point, but then it had been a difficult day for her. She was praying for mercy, her mind racing over the idea that he surely wouldn't force her body to do this not after everything... of course the argument drifted back to the fact that he'd already forced her body to do worse today.

"Would it be any easier in the morning Claire... or the next day, if I waited, spared you today?" he quirked an eyebrow genuinely curious as to her train of thought on this.

"Yes." She replied without even having to think.

"Really?" he pressed, "All that worry, the dread, the anticipation. The fear would build, and so would my appetite." He gave her a feral grin that left her under no illusions as to what that would mean for her precious virginal sensibilities.

The idea that she was a virgin was almost too good; that he would get her still so pure, unsullied... of course she'd always be a virgin, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. He reached his hand out, leaning over her to trace a single finger from the hollow of her throat to her breasts; she sucked in a sharp breath and her whole body went rigid. So he continued, raising both his hands to her waist, gently peeling apart the towel to expose her completely to him. Her head turned away and tears leaked out, as he let the two sides drop away and cool air drew goosepimples across the flesh of her taut stomach. Almost like he was being drawn to them his eyes rose to her small pert breasts, the nipples hard in the coolness. Her hands fisted at her sides, twisting in the towel as she fought for the strength to endure his touch. Almost reverently he covered a breast with his large warm hand, rolling the nipple between his fingers as her jaw clenched tightly, she still refused to open her eyes and look at him. His eye twitched in irritation, he could force her to watch, force her to participate... but not today, today he wanted her like this, quivering and sobbing quietly as he explored her. His mouth latched onto her other breast, sucking and biting sharply against the sensitive flesh, tasting her. She hissed sharply, the flinch so powerful her back almost arched and he couldn't help but smile around her flesh as he teased it.

"Stop please stop." She whispered; he didn't need to dip into her mind to know that she was in turmoil as her voice wavered and her pulse pounded against her skin.

Slowly he let his hand drop from her breast, keeping it flat he trailed it across her ribs, to her stomach, past her bellybutton and down, until he brushed the coarse blonde dusting of hair between her legs. Her head thrashed to the side and a half articulated sob made its way to his ears, as she tried to keep her legs tightly pressed together in a vain effort to deny him entry. A nudge from his mind forced her legs apart with ease and he moved to kneel between them.

"No, no, no, no, please no." She sobbed openly now, hating herself for begging and pleading, she'd wanted to be strong, stoic, to not give him anything. To simply grit her teeth and bare it like she had so many other things. But not today, today she was an emotional wreck and he was pushing every button.

There was no other warning than that... her vocal pleas becoming more intense as he let his hand hover, the heat of it inches from her most private flesh. But her pleas should have been enough to warn him all was not well... Claire Bennet had never been frail, never simply broken down and given in. Until now...

Her mind collapsed in on itself and he simply stopped in surprise, staring at her blank eyes and the shallow breathing. He could barely sense her at all; there was no thought, nothing... catatonic. His lips curled back off his teeth in frustration and he lowered his face to hers, anger coiled in his gut at the thought that she could escape him like this, so utterly. Her god forsaken ability was protecting her from him again! He didn't want her like this, didn't want her empty and void of thought, it was the struggle he enjoyed, the rage. Sylar raised his hands to her temples straddling her smaller body with ease as lowered his forehead to hers, eyes closed he focused on her mind.

A whisper, it was all he could find of her. Bitch.

He pulled out of her mind and simply stared at her vacant expression; her green eyes crystal clear yet entirely empty. He'd broken her; at least for now, like everything about Claire, she would recover, repair, probably a night's sleep would do it. He should have listened he mused... she'd reached her edge today, she'd warned him, repeatedly, that she couldn't take what he was planning and he'd ignored it; she'd always known her own limits; it was just that there had never really been any with her before. She should have fought him, before today he was certain she would have, had he tried this sooner, she'd have clawed and screamed and writhed as she tried to buck him off. Instead she'd retreated, hidden.

His anger boiled over and he slid off her quickly, trying to leash it in as he placed her more firmly in the centre of the bed, dragging the blanket over her still almost naked form, his hand grasped her face roughly and he dragged it into his eye line. "Sleep." He commanded, pushing the thought into the empty space where her mind should have been and then further, back into the recesses of her subconscious where she'd hidden. Obediently her eyes drifted shut.

He'd never been a patient man, his frustration boiled over and he stalked from the trailer, leaving her inside as he attempted to ignore the straining erection given now leeway in his tight jeans. It didn't take him long to find the small group that were sitting around a small fire, beers in hand discussing him. He snatched up a beer out of Edgar's hand and downed it quickly; the other man stood sharply, his fists clenched around a blade that was already in his hand, before he thought better of it and stalked to the table, retrieving two more beers. He offered one to him and Sylar smirked, fear was always better than friendship.

"Sylar." Samuel inclined his head to him, lounging back on the chair. "I take it Claire won't be joining you?"

Sylar narrowed his eyes at Samuel, almost daring him to push the matter, as his fingers itched to tear something or someone apart.

"No. He broke his toy." Lydia's voice drifted in from behind them and she emerged from the concealment of a trailer. Her eyes rose and the accusation bored into him; it was strange she'd never struck him as all that maternal before, he wondered what had changed. But her surface thoughts were a jumble of not only hers but other people's emotions and lives, he couldn't get the truth through the noise. Her arms folded and he quite clearly picked up her desire to comfort the 'poor girl' as she saw her; perhaps she'd intended to let him read that thought?

"By all means Lydia." He smiled beatifically at her, enjoying the way her lips twisted in distaste that he could get inside her head like that. She turned on her heel however and made her way swiftly to his trailer and to the sleeping girl within. Who knows maybe she'd actually be able to soothe Claire's unconscious mind with that gift of hers. Although he doubted it, how did you console someone that had been forced to murder their entire family and then been kidnapped by the very same tormenter? He smiled quietly to himself; it had been a good day, he raised the full beer to his lips and savoured the taste... bitter and sweet; just like revenge.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The light filtering through a window hit her face oddly, prising open her heavy eyes Claire took a moment to stare at the unfamiliar window, the thin drapes barely covering it. Something hard and cold settled in her stomach when she realised she wasn't alone, a warm body was pressed behind her, their arms encircling her. She let her eyes dart down and expected to see Sylar's large hands, the dark dusting of hair along them; instead they were small and tanned with very feminine hands. Hesitantly she shifted, arching her neck until she could see the body behind her, which was above the covers; whilst she was beneath still wrapped in only the towel she last remembered Sylar pulling apart.

"It's ok." The soft voice she recognised as Lydia's from last night soothed her quietly, her hand rising to grip her own, brushing her thumb gently over the back. Claire should have been more surprised to find the woman here beside her, but she didn't know what to expect anymore.

"No it's not." Claire whispered, knowing with startling certainty that it probably never would be again. Sylar had destroyed her family.... worse he'd made her do it. Now she was here trapped with him and his Carnival of freaks.

"I know." Lydia continued quietly. "But right now you're safe. He's asleep around what's left of the campfire outside with the others." Lydia continued in that same even tone. Claire shifted, turning and pulling herself into a sitting position so she was out of the other woman's grasp. She glanced at her quickly, trying to figure out just what it was the other woman was doing here.

"I'm only here to help." Lydia explained softly, sitting up and staring at her with eyes that seemed to see through her.

"How could you possibly help?" Claire managed, barely keeping the sarcasm out of her voice; it was so easy to redirect her anger onto this woman, who simply sat there passively staring through her.

"By making sure it wasn't Sylar you woke up beside this morning."

Claire felt like she'd been struck by the words, as a ripple of disgust and loathing tore through her and she buried her face in her hands, Lydia was right... she couldn't have woken to that.

"I am sorry Claire, I know it means less than nothing coming from us. If we'd had any sense we'd have ended Sylar whilst he was vulnerable, before he regained his memories. But Samuel and the rest of us, we're here because we don't always make the right choices." Claire lifted her eyes, staring hard at this woman, trying to understand if the sadness was genuine, or her own projected guilt.

"Let me guess; you all thought you could tame him." Claire muttered trying hard not to think too hard about his face, those dark unfathomable eyes that burned with malice and cruelty when she was stupid enough to stare into them.

"No he was already tame. We just thought we could keep him that way. But things are never that simple." Lydia sighed, before sliding off the bed and standing into a stretch that arched her back, clearly sleeping curled up on such a small bed hadn't done her any favours.

"No." Claire agreed quietly. "They aren't."

"You have friends here Claire." Lydia told her pointedly, reaching forward as if to touch her shoulder, before reconsidering it and dropping her hand. "Don't forget that. We always wanted you to be a part of this family; obviously not like this, but you are here. Sylar won't keep you locked inside forever; you can have a life with us."

Claire was certain Lydia was trying to be kind, but she clearly wasn't used to offering platitudes to people, it was horribly blunt. There was no suggestion that she could leave, that there would be escape or rescue; but then she had agreed to this hadn't she? What would Peter think of her... what would her mother? She closed her eyes trying not to think about her mother, the Company would never tell her the truth; if it was even them that would deal with the cleanup... was there even anyone left? If the police had then she'd get a knock on the door informing her that her ex-husband was dead and her daughter missing, a suspect in his and the other brutal murders. Sylar's face swam behind her eyes mocking and she pushed it away, she'd only look at him when she had to, especially inside her own head.

Lydia's eyes darted upwards and her brow creased, Claire recognised the look of concern with the faintest flicker of fear.

"He's coming back." Claire reasoned, unconsciously her legs drew up to her chest and she hugged them to herself.

"I should go." Lydia apologised quietly, "Please, come visit me when you feel up to it, we'll discuss things further." Claire nodded mutely, watching as the woman hurried out of the door, letting it swing shut with a bang, giving her a moment's respite, before it swung inwards and Sylar's dark form stepped inside. Claire kept her eyes fixed ahead of her, refusing to bury her head in her knees completely like she wanted to.

"Good morning Claire." He spoke quietly, almost softly as he deliberately clicked the door shut. "You seem better. Sleep well?" Claire could hear the faint amusement in his voice and the hint of sarcasm at what he'd clearly considered her hysterics the night before. She concentrated, trying to remember what exactly had happened, she remembered his hands, the way they slid over her as if they had a right to, the way he'd pushed her legs apart, exposing her to him.... then nothing.

"You overreacted." He supplied and she did look at him then, her head snapping up in disbelief that he was really so self-deluded. He smirked back at her crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen unit, which was basically a stove and a sink with a single cupboard; she got the impression he'd been trying to get a rise out of her with that.

"I'm sure." She muttered, not giving him what he wanted.

"It was quite selfish really." He continued, forcing her fists to clench as she stifled the pleasant image of beating him to death with them. "I was left somewhat frustrated." A single eyebrow arched and his lip curled up at the side, as leers went it had the desired effect, she felt utterly like a piece of meat.

"So sorry." She replied dryly, "Next time I'll be sure to have my mental breakdown after you've finished raping me."

Sylar moved, one moment he seemed to be beside the door, the next he was inches from her and she was being tugged to her feet, stumbling until she crashed against his chest and his arms enfolded her. One hand gripped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "It would be appreciated."

She saw it coming, but it didn't help, his lips pressed over hers. She was surprised at how gentle the touch was, how he caressed her, whilst her teeth were attempting to tear his lips to shreds. He grunted as her teeth finally broke through and she tasted blood. His hands shoved at her and she crashed back against the stove, but he was right there with her, crowding her body, his leg sliding between hers as she attempted to keep her balance whilst his mouth dropped to her neck. He bit down sharply and she almost wished she could feel the pain of it to use to ground herself, as he withdrew rising his head so she could see his blood stained mouth; his teeth bared in a smile that was entirely predatory. He wanted her to fight; she knew it, knew that even as she clawed at his face, trying to wipe that expression of it; knew she was only giving him what he wanted. He'd stopped last night exactly because she hadn't fought, because she'd gone inside herself, hidden from him and the things he'd done to her. But she couldn't find that place this morning, in the harsh light of a new day... with him. He pinned her hands behind her back with one of his own, content it seemed to use physical force rather than his abilities to dominate her.

"You're sick." She snarled at him, trying to make the head butt she aimed connect with his nose again; he leant away from it, using her momentum to deliver a blow with his knee to her midsection that left her winded if not in pain. He took her momentary diversion to lift her up by her throat and shove her onto the tiny kitchen unit; until she was practically sat on the stove. Her legs snapped out, aiming for the bulge in his pants, wishing with everything in her that she an offensive power that she could use to obliterate him. She caught him with her second attempt and he gasped, his eyes bulging as she tried to leap free. His palm opened wide and slammed out into her chest, holding her down as he collapsed over her, trapping her legs, whilst he groaned into her shoulder clearly trying to recover himself as she bucked trying to get her hands free.

"Ouch." He hissed into her ear, before dipping his tongue inside and tracing the contours, the shudder it drew was pure revulsion.

"I'll kill you!" Claire swore as he wrapped a hand around her throat, scouring her face with his god awful eyes that seemed to know exactly how to torment her.

"Not today." He replied coolly, pressing her further into the stove until she could feel the hard heat of him between her legs, restrained barely by the thick material of jeans.

"I thought you wanted to build bridges." She hissed in desperation using her nails in an attempt to claw his hand free, but his grip was solid as he concentrated, his belt buckle snapped open without assistance from either of them, she listened in morbid fascination feeling the fabric move, until the jeans slid away and she could feel his skin scratching against her legs.

"We have forever for that Claire." He whispered, groaning as his boxers tugged free unaided and joined the pool of clothing at his feet. "Why wait 100years when I could have you now. Train all those bad habits out of you early."

Claire let a scream of frustration out from between her teeth when she felt the full hard length of him scorching against her abdomen. He released her throat, his other hand tightening its grip on the hands that were still held pinned behind her back, her shoulders muscles she was certain should have been screaming in agony, she wondered if they'd dislocate before this was over. Her thoughts were cut off as he shifted and her legs were suddenly free. But there was no time to capitalise on it, he slid into the space between them as she attempted to swing, catching him in the hip, but leaving her open to him as he grasped one leg cocking it up to his hip. She wished she'd had underwear, her own jeans instead of the robe, anything to spare her even the seconds it would have taken him to tear them off her.

"What no foreplay!" she snarled, trying to bite at him as she twisted, making it as difficult as possible for him to enter her.

"Why bother." He snapped back, his lips were set in a determined line as his eyes blazed with what she was certain, was lust and unconcealed excitement. "It's not like you'll feel it." His cold words were a further slap in the face and she felt tears sting her eyes at it. He was right of course, it didn't matter if she was ready or not, virgin or not, her painless body would take whatever he dealt it without complaint.

"I hate you. I'll always hate you." she insisted feeling him press against her, his eyes darkened a fraction, but she couldn't tell if it was in response to her words, or the inch that he'd sunk the head of his cock inside her. She could feel it... nothing like what she expected or other girls had talked about, there was no burning sensation, no deep ache; but the feeling of something entering, of fullness, she felt that. Sylar grit his teeth above her, smiling almost serenely to himself as he bucked his hips violently. She felt him sink into her fully, there was a slight pull as her hymen gave way, but nothing else... no pain. A tear attempted to escape and she blinked it back, she wouldn't give Sylar the satisfaction.

He stilled above her, she half hoped he'd somehow injured himself; but his eyes found hers and she felt her head lock itself in place as he leant closer, sinking even deeper within her if it were possible. He wanted to see her eyes. Hatefully she gave him his wish, not taking them off his, as he began to move within her, his hips driving her back into the unit beneath, which groaned with the abuse. He didn't say a word, nothing, as he began to drive his hips relentlessly into her, the sound of their bare skin smacking together caused bile to rise in her throat. But she refused to break eye contact with Sylar, letting him see the loathing and disgust, which was all she'd ever feel for him.

His hand dropped from its position holding her leg in place and slid between them, she started when she felt his fingers brush where they were joined, until it found her clit. A smug look crossed his face at the sudden sensation of pleasure that shot through her, starved neurones lighting up with the intimate contact as he began to drive for a spot inside of her with supreme dedication. Her eyes widened as she realised his intent, her breathing sharpened and she renewed her efforts to free herself, but the twisting and bucking only increased the intensity of the sensations that began to pool in her abdomen.

"No!" she swore, slamming her head back into the stove almost knocking herself out with the force of it in her insistence that he not draw this from her. She wouldn't let her body enjoy its own rape. But his silence as his eyes bored into hers was worse than anything he could have said, it was so intimate so invasive; she could feel every inch of him pressed against her, inside her, every touch of his skin against hers seemed heightened. The knot forming in her abdomen became impossibly tight and she felt her back arch, trying to lessen the pressure he was steadily building, she kept her eyes on his, willing her body to remember who was doing this to her. His thumb circled insistently, unrelenting as hips kept up a hard driving rhythm. It felt good and she hated him for that, even the bile that had threatened throughout was subsiding with her sharp breaths as a sweat broke out over her flushed skin... bastard.

His mouth crashed against her open one, his tongue sweeping inside and savouring it before she could slam her jaw closed. He withdrew, but left his head inches from hers, their noses almost brushing, sweat had beaded across his forehead and was beginning to slide across his face with his efforts. Sylar's movements became frantic, causing her whole body to move with the force of the thrusts, as the unit supporting them threatened to either collapse or tear itself from the wall. She threw her head back, jaw clenching as her toes curled, fighting with every inch of strength she had in her to stop the wave of pleasure from breaking.

He pinched her clit violently combining it with a deep thrust; which caused a shocked moan to tear free of her lips, as her first real orgasm burst through her starved neurones making her blood boil, until she was arching and trembling beneath him like his trained whore. His body bucked wildly as his hips lost all rhythm; he grasped her face, holding it in place whilst he came apart. The expression he wore as he emptied himself into her was enough to bring back the nausea and she thought it would be oddly appropriate if she threw up.

He slumped over her, his dick growing soft inside, until the feeling of being stretched passed, small ripples of pleasure were still racing through her and she took several shuddering breaths trying to ignore them. Her body might have enjoyed it, or at least a part of her body, the rest of it was in violent protest.

"Get off." She told him quietly seething, wanting nothing more than to shower and strip the smell of him off her. To scour her skin free of any traces of his sweat.

"I thought I already had." His completely inappropriate joke passed a beat in the silence before he chuckled darkly against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, before raising his heat to trace his fingertips over her face, as if committing the way she looked like this to his memory. "How does it feel to be mine Claire?" he pressed smirking down at her looking truly satisfied with himself.

The answer was easily the most honest one she'd ever given. "Revolting."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The silence stretched between them as Sylar contemplated just what it was he was supposed to do with Claire when he wasn't screwing with her... or just plain screwing her. His lips curved up at the memory, he was certain it was one of his favourites, it had all been so perfectly Claire Bennet, even her subdued response afterwards, that waspish attitude of hers that he was so fond of, slipping through in her unguarded moments. He was quietly relieved that she hadn't slipped back into her silent state, he'd been concerned for a moment when she'd vanished into the shower for so long; but apparently all she'd needed was time away from him. He also had a fair idea that she might have quite literally tried to scour her skin off, if the blood flecks he'd found in there after her were anything to go by.

He'd tried to hold a conversation with her, but she was clearly taking it upon herself to be as insolent as possible, sitting with her arms crossed, her chin out, lips pressed into a bored pout she seemed very close to the teenager she was supposed to be, eighteen or not. Apparently fear had deserted her now that he had taken the only thing her body had left to give him; of course there was always the doubt in her mind that if she pushed him too far he'd lash out the at the things she still cared about... the people. But then it was always easy to threaten people who, unlike himself, burdened themselves with a working conscience. He listened intently as she wrestled with the notion that his actions may have turned her off men entirely, apparently her 'experimentation' with her roommate might have been more involved than he'd initially considered. If he was honest he'd just assumed she'd wanted companionship, love even and it hadn't much mattered the package that it came in. It was almost quaint. The girl could have quite literally anyone if she applied herself to the idea... instead she'd take the first one that offered.

"There was supposed to be a feast tonight." He spoke suddenly leaving his thoughts to muse over later as he dropped his feet onto the table and crossing them at the ankle. Poor Claire jumped in surprise at the sudden harsh movement, her eyes warily watching his legs and their new proximity to her. But she feigned boredom well enough, keeping her chin resting in her palm she turned her cool eyes on him; his lips curved and drew her attention for a moment, bringing back memories she was doing a good job of repressing, before she got a hold of them again. "To welcome us into the fold so to speak." He continued, picking up an apple and biting down on it sharply, enjoying the tangy taste as he returned his attention to Claire, her wide eyes made him snort in amusement. "I said supposed to be." He mocked, "They decided it wouldn't be appropriate, given the circumstances."

Claire turned her head away in disgust and he rolled his eyes. "I think it might be nice to let them have their little party. It's so rare to have new people in a place like this. It would seem rude not to introduce ourselves properly." He continued his irritation mounting further at her dismissal.

"Whatever." Claire muttered getting on his last nerve and knowing it. His palm slammed down onto the table, as he swung forward bringing his legs down. He rocked forwards grasping her wrist and dragging her attention on to him.

"Stop with the spoilt child routine Claire." He snarled, "Or I swear to you I'll give you something to sulk about." He sounded like a goddamn parent and it drew a smirk from him, he had after all been Nathan however briefly.

Her eyes widened but wisely her mouth remained closed as she glared back at him. But he could hear the words forcing their way out of her; she could barely contain them. _'He can't honestly expect me to play happy families with him can he?' 'He really is insane.' 'I couldn't even pretend to be pleased to be in his company for less than second.' 'He makes me sick, just looking at his face, the smell of him...'_

Sylar felt his pride twist at that, there was always something cutting about the way she despised him, it was always so much more personal with her than anyone else. Her loathing was expected but her genuine revulsion to him was almost an insult.

He grabbed the back of her head, dragging her forwards as he crushed his lips against hers, enjoying the way the air rushed out of her into his waiting mouth. Her hands went to his shoulders, shoving at him, trying to prise him off and his temper snapped. He exerted one of his many abilities over her and her hands stilled, before rising to the back of his head, gently caressing the hairs on the back of his neck.

_'NO!'_ her mind screamed at him. _'No you fucking bastard no... don't you dare not like this. Let me go!'_

He chuckled, withdrawing his mouth from hers and sitting back as she stood up gracefully, before leaving her own seat to straddle his waist, grinding down over him as she went, her hands tracing patterns over his chest. He reached up and cradled her face, having her nestle her cheek against his palm, but the effect was ruined when he caught her rabid eyes.

"I'm only going to tell you this once Claire. But you're a bright girl, I'm certain you'll be able to remember." He grasped her ass and dragged her even closer, until her chest was crushed against his, then he had her wiggle her hips experimentally against him, her hands entwining around his neck once more; her internal panic ratcheted up another notch. "I can make your body do whatever I want... willing or not. I can make you into a living puppet, if it would make my life easier Claire." She shuddered despite his control and he couldn't help but smile in pride at that.

"But the best part Claire..." he whispered brushing the hair out of her face almost tenderly so he could see her clearly. "Is I could make you want it. I could rip apart your mind, make you actually believe you loved me; make you want to please me anyway possible. You'd be a simpering little house wife for me if I wanted it Claire-bear." The horror in her mind at the idea was genuine, it was bad enough that he was forcing her against her will, but the idea that he could steal her will without so much as a fight was truly awful to her. "Even better, I could erase your entire mind Claire... Parkman had the right idea with it, he just lacked finesse. I don't. I could make you anyone I wanted." She longed to speak, to have her voice back, so he gave it her.

"Then why don't you!" she snarled. "What is it that's stopping you?" she didn't want to push him, he could sense that clearly; but she wanted answers, truly wanted to understand why it would remain a threat hanging over her and nothing more... for now at least.

"Because I want _you_." he replied with quiet intensity, his eyes boring into her daring her to pick up on the vulnerability that lurked in their dark depths. "I want you." he told her again clearly enunciating each word so that she was in no doubt as to its meaning and the power behind it.

"Funny thing. We don't always get what we want in this world Sylar." She smirked at him, overly confident that she was more valuable to him this way.

"I do." He reminded her wiping the smug look off her face abruptly.

She went quiet, both internally and externally and he let her take a moment to compose herself, to let his threats seep into her, becoming tangible.

"Be reasonable." She whispered, as if she almost didn't dare to imagine he could be. He quirked an eyebrow as she softened her expression. "Just think about what you're asking me; even for a second." She was almost pleading, praying that somewhere inside of him there had to be a shred of humanity that could see how impossible his request was, how she could never do anything more than loath him. Her rage, the hatred, her revulsion to even his smell prevented her from even pretending to play nice with him. In some small way, a tiny whisper in her mind suggested to her that it might be easier to simply let him erase who she'd been, less painful; of course it was a portion of her mind that was hastily being shoved into a locked closet never to be opened again.

Sylar narrowed his eyes, he'd thought the threat would be enough, he knew just how much she valued her memories, her individuality and free will. What had he missed? Did she honestly consider even that not enough of a threat to overcome her feelings on the matter to at least pretend? He'd only recently got over the loss of his own free will, a body of his own, he couldn't, wouldn't go back to that, not ever; it was the worst threat he could honestly come up with.

"I hate you..." she continued not realising his confusion, too caught up in her own anger. "I can't even describe to you the intensity of it. I feel like I could do anything, hurt anyone just to get to you." she admitted her voice still carrying that soft gentle quality despite her harsh words. "I'd kill anyone that stood in my way of getting revenge on you and I don't think it would even bother me... I hate you that much."

He couldn't deny that the idea of the intensity of her feelings was welcome; no one had ever felt even a shred of what she did for him. It didn't much matter that it was the 'wrong' emotion, love and hate were a hairsbreadth away from one another, all she needed was the a push in the right direction... well an almighty shove, but the principle was there.

"What would it take Claire?" he pressed, "Hmm?" he asked again when she went quiet. "What threat would be enough?"

"Nothing." She breathed, her honesty striking him, she meant it, she honestly didn't believe there was anything that could make her willingly bat her eyes at him, to let her stand in his presence unrestrained and not attempt to murder him.

Pity.

"Fine." He snapped. "Have it your way. We'll see how you feel about it after a couple of days happily following my every whim." Her face paled and she gripped his arms tightly as he crushed his hands against her temples, forcing his way into her mind. The trick was to let her be self aware, to keep _herself_, but to place the compulsion to obey his every command, so that she'd smile softly at him, voluntarily touch him, genuinely want to be near him. Of course the real trick was letting her remember it when it was over; to let her feel every ounce of emotion she'd given him and know it was real. He opened his eyes and pulled back, her face was blank for a moment before a smile widened it and revealed rows of perfect teeth. She inclined her head and caught his lips, pressing a soft kiss there.

"Thank you." she breathed, against his cheek.

He grinned shark-like back at her, "Oh?"

"For wanting me." She admitted coyly, his mind brushed hers and the gratitude that spilled from it was overwhelming, he couldn't hold back the pride in the mind fuck he'd managed to achieve. Of course it was easier knowing the vulnerability he'd picked up on earlier. Claire wanted to be loved, accepted... and she hadn't cared what package. He smirked, so long as it wasn't him.

"Always." He replied, surprised how easy it was to admit, and enjoying the way it lit up her eyes; a flicker of protest roared inside of her, before it was quashed, shoved waiting into the back of her mind.

Oh she'd be pissed when he gave her mind back to her; and he intended to give her plenty to be pissed about by the time he was through with her. Then he'd see if she was still as certain that no threat would be enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 6**

It was so easy to pretend; Sylar cocked his head back and tossed a chip into his mouth, listening to the light laughter coming from all over the table. Claire sat quietly beside him, her body for once under her own control and yet her mouth was closed as she simply watched. It had taken three days until her internal screams had begun to bleed through. A 'trial run' he'd called it; she'd called it slavery, but he wasn't going to quibble. Not when she'd been so accommodating; he found himself smirking at the surreal memory of her in an apron happily humming away a tune as she'd cooked him a meal. Of course the fact that she'd been in an apron and nothing else had meant that the dinner she'd eventually served him apologetically after his little 'distractions' had been burnt to a crisp. Good times, he murmured to himself catching her eye and deliberately sending the image of her bent over the kitchen table whilst he happily made her scream internally and externally. She winced and closed her eyes; dropping her head so she wouldn't accidentally have to catch his gaze.

It seemed his 'lesson' had been thoroughly absorbed by her to the point where the notion of him controlling her to such a degree, to actually have to live with the memory of loving him, however briefly was enough to leash her in for now. He doubted it would last long and she'd no doubt need a quick brutal reminder of just what he was capable of, which he would happily provide; she was such a rewarding student after all.

Their welcome home party was quite the popular event as it turned out, he was quite certain the entire Carnival was here, even the children who were normally kept well away from him. Particularly after it became apparent that Claire wasn't entirely under her own control. _Safety_ _first_.

Samuel hadn't been pleased about that particular development at all, Lydia had been even less so, he'd had to make Claire physically assault the other woman on the several occasions when she'd taken it upon herself to corner her and find out just what he was doing to make such a resistant young woman suddenly so compliant. It did have the one positive benefit of making their adoptive family wary of Claire just as much as they were of him; because let's be honest; they could never be sure when she was _entirely_ herself anymore. It made them both outcasts, black sheep's of this very _special_ family; something he found quietly amusing, but then any family that wanted him was probably worth a chuckle or two. His hand drifted to Claire's where it lay on the table top, her other hand fingering her glass of wine aimlessly; he gave it a squeeze, before tracing the outline of each finger, not taking his eyes of Edgar and Lydia discussing something in hushed tones to themselves away from the others. He wasn't overly concerned with their elaborate schemes to get Lydia's daughter out from under Samuel's thumb, but it did pass the time to watch them stumble about blindly attempting to fix a problem he could have solved in his sleep. Samuel wasn't all that complex when you really got into it; just slightly disturbed... he could relate.

Claire shifted her hand, pulling it out from his touch to place it on her lap; it was subtle for her, before his little demonstration about free will she would have ripped her hand loose. Still, she hadn't quite got the idea about resisting him; he extended his ability and took control, her hand slipped into his and he drew it to his mouth pressing a kiss to the knuckles. He sighed deeply inhaling the scent of her skin; it shouldn't have been so intoxicating and yet he couldn't get enough, he ducked his head burying it in her neck and inhaling deeply, letting her soft hair brush over his face and hide his exhilaration. He returned her body to its own control and to her credit she didn't recoil, but nor did she relax into his touch; she took in a sharp breath and refused to take another so she didn't have to smell him. Apparently she'd only gotten more sensitive to his scent with their enforced proximity; it brought back bad memories apparently.

"So Claire." Samuel's voice interrupted the moment, which was exactly the point; he released her and slid back into his seat, picking at the remnants of his food with feigned interest. "I met someone the other day I thought you might be interested in." He smiled serenely over at her and Sylar snorted picking the thoughts out of Samuel's head with ease, he wasn't overly concerned.

"Oh?" she asked politely enough, but he'd barely piqued her interest, the only people that mattered, she wanted as far away as possible from her and the Carnival.

"A young paramedic... I think you know him, Peter Petrelli?"

Claire froze and Sylar felt the need to rest a hand on her leg, reminding her gently of her choice.

"What did he want?" she asked tightly, their tense discussion slowly drawing the attention of the others.

"Well it seems that he recently came into some information that was left for him regarding a carnival and a compass... apparently it was linked to the disappearance of his much loved niece." Samuel informed her coolly his sharp eyes scrutinizing her reaction. "Which coincidentally, occurred around the same time as the brutal murders of his entire family."

Claire paused only briefly, "Did he find anything?" she asked in a voice that gave away nothing of her inner reaction, her eyebrow cocked questioningly.

"A few things. But he seemed very... tenacious about it."

Sylar sighed, wondering how long it would take Claire to pick up on Samuel's subtle hint.

"Stop screwing with me Samuel and just get to the point, what is it you want me to do." Her cool voice snapped and drew surprised looks from just about everyone, himself included.

All amusement bled from the old carnie's face. "Call him, better yet, pay him a visit." Claire remained very still and Sylar waited patiently to see exactly what her mind set would be.

"And tell him what?" Claire snarled, unable to hold her temper now.

"That Sylar let you go; that you decided to give up on the normal world and... ran away to the circus." He raised his arms in a helpless shrug at the cliché but stared unrepentantly at her; challenging her to protect this _new_ family of hers. After all a super battle to the death between Peter and Sylar would reign destruction down on their little carnival and no doubt draw unwanted attention.

"Peter won't buy that." She sounded oddly confident in her one time saviour.

Sylar chuckled beside her and she shot him a dark look. "I think your crediting Peter with a little too much intelligence Claire-bear, it's more likely he'll be so relieved to find you alive..." he brushed a stray hair out of her face, "and well." He felt a small swell of satisfaction in the way her eyes darkened fractionally. "To see that you survived the big bad monster that slaughtered your family. I'm sure he'll just be happy that you went and made yourself a new one." She had gone rigid at the mention of her family and he had to take control to make her physically release the table she'd got in a death grip.

"Like my jailer would let me out. Like I could even leave this god damn place!" She muttered, still resentful of the whole idea of ' a Carnival that couldn't be found'. Her one attempt at leaving had been met with bitter disappointment when she'd slipped out of the gates only to reappear seconds later exactly where she'd left. He hadn't even needed to punish her she'd been so demoralised by the whole thing she'd actually taken the hand he'd offered and allowed him to lead her back home; where of course he'd punished her anyway.

Sylar decided since he was in such a good mood to throw her a bone, "Oh I'm sure we could take a short trip Claire. Visit with dear _Uncle_ Peter." Sylar took a swig of his beer to hide his smile, "Anything to protect 'the family'." He added winking at Samuel who raised his glass to him.

"Really." Claire snapped sarcastically. "Like I'd give you the chance to get within even a mile of Peter." This last part was muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

Sylar snorted and stretched his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly against his side as he met her piercing gaze. "I'm offended Claire-bear. Anyone would think you don't trust me." She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Samuel.

"Sylar doesn't have to be the one to take you Claire." Samuel interrupted; Sylar flicked his eyes to the older man, feeling his amusement at the situation evaporate. "I was thinking Lydia would be ideal."

Claire frowned, clearly thinking about it; before she decided that he wouldn't go for that so why even give it another thought.

But whilst Claire was clearly beginning to understand, Sylar and his carnies were obviously not getting the message. "No!" Sylar snarled, electricity sparking from his fingers as he slammed his hand down on the table, trying to reign in his anger and failing. Samuel was still trying to work him like he was the pathetic amnesiac from before; simpering Gabriel Grey. Sylar raised his eyes staring intently at the other man, not caring that the table had gone quiet... he could kill them, all of them and he wouldn't even have to get up out of his seat to do it; it was time they remembered that.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear," he spoke clearly, the smooth chill to his words sliding over each of them and having the desired effect; they all knew a line had been crossed. "I might look like him, sound like him, occasionally act like him. But it would be a mistake for you to forget that Gabriel Grey is dead... I AM SYLAR!" he barked, causing Samuel's eye to twitch.

"Claire is mine." He told them clearly, clamping her mouth closed with a gesture, whilst keeping her held rigid in her seat, before she could create a scene. "I don't share." There was a ripple of noise, but nothing more, no one dared speak. Samuel considered attacking him, he heard the intent clearly, his internal debate as to whether he could envelope him in the earth, trap him forever. Before Samuel wisely reconsidered; placing his hands flat on the table and meeting his eyes.

"She goes nowhere unless I wish it, does nothing without my consent. Hell let's just get this out there shall we, being as everyone already knows the truth; this entire Carnival is still standing only because I've decided I like it here, it allows me certain... advantages the outside world doesn't." He didn't need to see the faces around him tighten with rage and fear, all that mattered was the sunken look, in the ashen features, of the once proud man before him. "Is that clear enough for you?" he pressed feeling the corners of his mouth lift in amusement at Claire's silent enjoyment of seeing Samuel put so thoroughly in his place; she really was coming along nicely.

Sylar felt it, the subtle shift in control; Samuel wouldn't stand against him, oh he'd manipulate, attempt to pull strings, but he was just a figurehead now; Sylar was the ringmaster.

"My mistake. It was just a thought." Samuel shrugged, appearing to brush off the argument as he took another sip of his drink, deliberately not looking at the young woman struggling to be heard and yet utterly silent who was causing him so much trouble. But it was the minds around him that revealed his victory; he let out a chuckle of dark amusement, it seemed the whole Carnival was finally aware that it had the tiger by the tail.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As it turns out, Samuel's idea wasn't so foolish after all, Claire considered this as she knocked sharply on Peter's apartment door. So far she was mostly under her own control, but Sylar was on a hair trigger for anything she might do to spark her dear Uncle's concerns. Turning she glanced once at him, dressed as he was today in Lydia's more accommodating form, he sent her a shark like grin and she suppressed the natural response to hiss something at him as she returned patiently to the completely unremarkable door.

She didn't want to be here. Not with Sylar inches away from Peter. God knows she already couldn't stand the thought of her immortality and the no doubt eternal guilt she'd carry for what he'd forced her to do to her father and the others. If he made her to the same to Peter as well she feared she'd go mad.

"I won't if you behave." He breathed, sliding entirely too close to her and dropping a possessive kiss to the top of her head. "Stick to the plan Claire-bear and he'll be perfectly fine." She believed him, it was his one saving grace after all and something she clung to like a lifeline, Sylar never lied; not to her.

The door creaked open and a wild haired, bleary eyed Peter stuck his head out; the scar that seemed to split his face giving him a new darker quality she hated to see there. His eyes widened fractionally as he took her in, barely even registering the taller woman beside her as he darted forward and enveloped her in a bone crushing hug that she had no right to receive off him... not after what she'd done. Hesitantly she lifted her arms and held him too her, cherishing the moment before she was certain it would all go to hell.

"Claire!" his voice was as raw as the expression on his face as he paused to take her in. "Where have you been, god I was so worried. I saw the bodies, the police..." he trailed off and a flicker of something crossed his face too fast for her to read, as his attention finally settled on the woman beside her.

Claire paused, she had to do this right, Peter's life depended on it. "Peter, can I come inside, I need to talk to you." she asked quietly and his eyes snapped back down to her, she noticed they hardened fractionally.

"You going to introduce me to your friend?" he indicated Sylar with his head, eyeing his feminine disguise suspiciously.

"Peter this is Lydia, she's a... well I'm staying with her and her family for a while." Peter's expression tightened and he let her go, sweeping back inside his apartment and holding the door out to them.

Claire took in a breath, trying to release the tension that was building, Peter was talking to her, but oddly enough she'd have given anything to have had him slam the door back in her face instead. The door closed behind them and they all stood quietly in the room forming a small triangle, staring each other down, no one seeming to want to speak first.

"It was Sylar." Peter broke the silence looking pained, his scar standing in sharp relief now in the lamp light of his apartment. "Wasn't it? I should have known that bastard would take revenge on them through you..." he bowed his head, his hands fisted violently at his side as he seemed to fight for control of something. "I tried to stop him Claire." He looked up at her, his face all the evidence she needed of that, as if she couldn't still see the odd way he stood to favour his left side. Once again she was struck by the painful realisation that if he'd just taken her ability it would have made him as invulnerable as her, and he wouldn't look so... broken. But then she out of anyone knew that just because the scars didn't show, didn't mean you were whole.

"I know that Peter." She sighed, resisting the urge to touch him, he'd only pull away, and it would probably set Sylar off. "I don't blame you." she told him honestly.

Peter's eyes narrowed and he stared between her and Lydia's form intently; Claire held her breath wondering if she'd subconsciously looked at Sylar when she'd said that.

"You could have come to me Claire. I'd have taken care of you, you know that." He responded finally, his eyes flashing with hurt at what he clearly considered to be her rejection.

"You had your own problems to deal with Peter, and you weren't exactly in any shape to look after anyone." She sighed, trying not to stare at the scar that marred his once perfect features.

"So you take off with complete strangers?" He snapped accusingly and she frowned, she hadn't honestly expected him to be so upset about this, not if he thought she was being taken care of. Obviously the truth was laughably far off, but still, Peter couldn't possibly know that. Peter's angry gaze turned full force on Sylar, who smiled blandly back at him out of Lydia's face.

"Peter, I found a place where I can belong, where my ability is normal. It's all I ever wanted... to be normal. Can't you just be happy that I had somewhere to go, these people can keep me safe, Sylar won't be able to find them."

"Why because the Carnival moves?" Claire paused, and stared hard at Peter, his lip twisted into a smug smile, he knew about the Carnival...

"How did you...?" she started and he cut her off with a gesture, his eyes drifting back to Lydia's form, Sylar for his part hadn't reacted at all to this news, was merely watching intently; it was making her nervous.

"You think you were the only person Samuel and his _family_ approached." He snorted in derision and pulled back the sleeve on his left arm revealing a compass tattoo. "Souvenir." He muttered shaking his head and returning his accusing gaze to Lydia's form. "Apparently their little parlour trick couldn't hold Hiro though, he came to see me when I was in the hospital, explained a few things about this Carnival and it's people." His expression told her that clearly it hadn't been favourable. "Apparently they're in the habit of abducting people or blackmailing them into staying."

"This isn't like that!" Claire cut in quickly, sensing the twitch to Sylar's expression even behind Lydia's face. "I chose to go with them." It was a desperate plea and Peter knew it, he eyed her again, staring more intently than he ever had before; this new shrewder embittered Peter was not a welcome surprise.

"Funny thing Claire." Peter continued as if she hadn't spoken his eyes entirely on Sylar. "Hiro also mentioned that the Carnival had been hiding a man named Gabriel, who apparently had no memory of who he was, liked to call himself Nathan and looked an awful lot like Sylar."

"We took in a man who needed help, we had no idea who he was." Lydia's sharp voice startled her, Claire half expected Sylar to shift back into himself, but he didn't just gazed passively out from behind Lydia's dark eyes; apparently he really didn't consider Peter any kind of threat at all. "Are you going to tell me that you have never trusted the wrong person?" there was nothing to give Sylar away, no tick in his expression, nothing... yet Peter was absolutely rigid as he strode towards Lydia, bypassing her entirely as she tried to stop him. Claire felt every muscle in her body tense as Peter squared up to Sylar's disguised form, he had to keep his promise... he just had to.

"Fool me once, shame on you." Peter murmured before his hand shot out and pressed over Lydia's chest, right where the heart should be. Claire blinked, watching as tendrils of black seemed to creep beneath Lydia's skin, until the body began to seize and rippled, revealing Sylar beneath. Claire panicked darting forward but she didn't dare touch either of them as Peter followed Sylar down to the ground, his hand still pressed firmly over his chest; he seemed to be sucking the very life out of him. Hope flooded Claire as Sylar drew in a rattling breath and his wide, surprised eyes rolled back in his head, his hands falling limp to his side as all colour drained from his skin; leeched straight into Peter.

"You won't fool me twice." Peter snarled at Sylar's fully unconscious form. Claire let out a startled sound that drew Peter's gaze to her; apparently Peter was suspicious of everyone now after what happened with Nathan. She was quietly thankful he hadn't done the same to her.

"Is he dead?" She didn't dare hope not really; she'd never seen the ability Peter had used, but she had to pray that it was something permanent. But Peter wasn't answering her, he looked a little unfocused, horrified she darted forwards as he slumped to the ground besides Sylar.

"Peter!" she cried, holding his face and trying to get him to focus on her. "We can't stay here, he'll wake up, I don't know where his off spot is anymore, he moved it!" she pleaded, trying to drag Peter back up to his feet.

"Something's wrong." Peter gasped, raising his hands to his face as if examining them for the first time. "I lost it." He whispered, sounding horrified.

"Lost what?" she hissed, finally getting him up, but his full weight was almost too much for her to handle. Yet again he didn't answer, Claire rolled her eyes, with Peter it was always drama. Something metallic caught her eye, grinning she darted her hand out and snatched up the compass. "We're leaving, now, with any luck he won't be able to follow us without this." Claire told Peter as she hoisted his arm around her shoulder and he staggered under his own weight. Sylar stirred, his hand rising with a groan as he began to come around, colour flooding his features again. Fuelled by the certainty that Peter wouldn't survive round two with Sylar she raised the compass in her hand and thought as hard as she could, _'there's no place like home, there's no place like home'_ hell it worked for Dorothy. Sylar's eyes shot open and she let out a triumphant laugh as she felt the motionless motion embrace her and pitch them into nothingness.

They staggered out into the quiet early morning of the Carnival trailer park, a few people were milling around but no one seemed to have noticed their ungraceful appearance. Peter was steadier on his feet now and Claire shoved him behind the nearest trailer; ducking down beside him. Sylar was going to be pissed; beyond pissed, livid, homicidal... Claire swallowed the bout of hysterical laughter that threatened to overwhelm her; 'when wasn't he'.

"Are you ok?" Claire asked when she finally had herself under control as she watched Peter carefully; he slumped against the trailer, his head in his hands.

"No." His voice sounded too high... stressed.

"What is it? Peter talk to me, we can't stay here, we need a plan." She pressed becoming acutely aware that every moment they stayed here increased the risk of a Carnie, or god forbid Sylar himself finding them; after all she'd broken her promise... sort of, technically she was _home._ 'Oh god. The promise.' Claire felt the colour drain out of her, she'd broken her word, her family, what was left of it would be at Sylar's mercy... she needed to get to her mother now.

"You need to leave Claire." Peter told her with quiet intensity, his brows drawn neatly together as he stared at a fixed point in front of him.

"I know, we both do." She hissed with irritation.

"I mean it... there's something wrong with me." He whispered and finally his voice cracked, giving away his inner turmoil. For the first time she looked at his eyes, really looked, they were wide as saucers and black as midnight.

"What happened with Sylar?" she pressed a sinking feeling starting in her gut.

"Hey!" a voice startled them both, Claire's eyes shot up coming face to face with her very own sorority nightmare; Becky, so far she'd managed to avoid seeing the other girl which suited her just fine. The other girl seemed to assess the situation in seconds, her eyes widening as a curve began at the corners of her mouth; they were screwed if she drew attention to them. Claire opened her mouth to speak, to attempt to reason with her but Peter beat her to it, his body flying past and crashing against Becky's the girl vanished but Peter had a hand around her throat as they went down to the ground thrashing quietly, out of sight of the rest of the trailers. Claire had only a second to realise what was about to happen as Peter's hand snapped out and curled around a jagged rock; her breath caught in her chest as his fist clutching the rock slammed into Becky's head with a sickening crunch.

"Peter..." she managed faintly, but he barely seemed to notice her, as blood flecked his face and he lifted his hand.

"I need to." He murmured, "I'm sorry, I have to." He whispered bringing the rock down again and again. Claire darted forwards, too slow, too late, but she had to try; Peter's first blow had clearly killed Becky but she had to hope... couldn't face the idea of it. "I need to." Peter whispered again as she wrestled with his arm, trying to pry the rock free. Instead he backhanded her across the face with it, sending her flying and momentarily blinding her whilst her face healed over. By the time she was up on her feet and crawling desperately back to him he was already using the rock to smash in a specific section of Becky's skull, his hands clawing at the flesh. Claire stopped dead, the look in his eyes was all too familiar to her as he exposed the brain matter; that same manically soft, almost relieved smile in those dark eyes.

"No." She managed through trembling lips as her throat constricted around tears. It wasn't possible... it couldn't be. But as Peter lifted his head to hers, his eyes blazing with understanding as he danced on the precipice of sanity, she felt the fleeting hope from earlier vanish utterly; at exactly the same moment as Peter did.

"You took Sylar's ability." She whispered; horrified to find herself facing nothing but air.

Invisible hands grasped her from behind, holding her fast to a solid chest.

"Peter... no. Take my ability, overwrite his, get rid of it; please now!" she struggled trying to turn around so that she could see his face as she felt him wrap the ability around her as well. "My dad always said Sylar's ability was dangerous; that it couldn't be controlled." She grew panicked at his silence, his face contorting into something unpleasant as he stared over at the body of a girl she'd once thought about hating.

"It's too late Claire." Peter informed her gravely "It's the hunger... I can feel it, just like before." Claire blanched, when had he taken Sylar's ability before?

"It's not too late!" she pleaded, knowing even as she did that it was falling on deaf ears; Becky's bloodied and bludgeoned body was proof enough that it was far too late.

"I don't want to let it go." Peter told her quietly, "I understand now Claire; this is the only way I can beat him. The only way I can get back what I lost, all those abilities Claire, I can have them again." He smiled softly brushing his thumb over her cheek and catching the tears she hadn't realised were falling. "I can be the hero."


	8. Chapter 8

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 8**

There was no getting around it, he'd been arrogant, foolishly so and he'd paid the price. Sylar shook his head one last time, trying to clear away the cobwebs. But he felt _wrong_ he patted himself down, the disconcerting feeling that something was missing refusing to leave. Stumbling he made his way into the bathroom, grasping at the taps and gratefully throwing handfuls of cold water over his face. Feeling unsettled he raised his head and stared hard at his own reflection, running his palms over his face. Something was missing. Sylar slammed his fist into the mirror shattering it, he pulled his fist back and watched the glass drop free as the wounds knit themselves back together. Two things... he'd lost two things; Claire and whatever the hell it was Peter had taken from him. He felt, lighter. Screwing his eyes shut he focused on his abilities, taking mental stock of them and finding nothing unaccounted for, none of his abilities were missing. Yet... something.

His eyes flew open and he met the dark stare of the man he'd buried forever. The hunger was gone.

Sylar ripped the sink away from the wall with a feral shout of elation; he was free. Finally his actions could be his own, not dictated to by some primal urge to know more, to have more, to understand everything. He could finally be... himself.

His smirk dropped, 'who was he without the hunger?' It was an unpleasant thought, 'was he still Sylar without the hunger to drive him, to force him to kill to sake his needs?' 'Could he still be Sylar? Or would he fall back into Gabriel Grey?' The thought was horrifying, that he might somehow return to that insignificant, pathetic creature he'd been, hunched over a watch, embittered and lost; a shell of a man with no goals, no future; utterly insignificant.

No. He wouldn't let that happen, couldn't, he'd worked too hard to become the man he was. He was Sylar, the hunger had merely caged him, bound him to a pattern of action. Now Sylar was free... free to hunt and kill out of choice not compulsion.

So without the hunger to guide him... what did he even want?

Power.

Sylar paused, he had power, had a great many in fact, enough to make him superior to every other _special_ he'd ever met... only his pride had defeated him, not Peter. He'd underestimated the youngest Petrelli, but then he always had, despite his pig headed ignorance and obvious stupidity, Peter had always had a certain amount of luck; always managed to struggle through; to survive. He couldn't ignore that any more, Peter was like a stray dog, you could keep on kicking it, but the stupid animal was just so used to it, it'd just keep on coming back for your ankles.

So did he still want power? Powers? The question was surprising enough, he didn't need them, not really; he wanted them, but that was different to the _need _that had driven him before. It was more complicated now. Did that make him more of a monster? To be free of the hunger and still want to kill things? He'd always thought of himself as a good man, a man that had choice stolen from him, by his ability, by Bennet and the Company. That he was what fate had made him. Did this change that belief? He couldn't answer that question, not now, not yet.

One desire flashed behind his eyes undiminished; golden hair and furious green eyes. Whatever the hunger had been, or had caused, his desire for Claire, the need to make her _his_ was apparently entirely his own. It was almost comforting, to know that something hadn't been manipulated by the hunger. That he really was just twisted in his obsession for the little cheerleader. Of course it was entirely possible that the hunger had driven him mad over the years; that even free of the compulsion, the lessons it had taught him and the desires it had awakened, he might never be rid of.

But all this introspection didn't help him with the small matter of Peter. It was a shame, Claire had been doing so well, no doubt her little taste of rebellion and freedom would undo everything he'd accomplished with her. He smirked, not that it wouldn't be fun to start all over again. Peter would need dealing with first of course; but then Peter was an unknown quantity now he had the hunger. He'd seen Peter under its effects once before, no one and nothing had been safe around him, friends, family, it hadn't mattered. Peter had been every inch and worse the monster he'd created for himself in Sylar. And he had Claire. A mild flicker of concern swept through him leaving his mouth dry and an odd sheen of sweat on his brow, it took him a moment to realise that he was worried about her. He wanted Claire for himself, wanted to keep her in his life whether as prisoner or partner it didn't much matter to him, she was his prize, his payoff for all the shit her family had put him through. But with Peter now, there was the very real possibility she might die; he was uncontrolled, the hunger would take over, just like it had for him in the beginning. All rational thought, planning, control, it wouldn't matter; the hunger always got its way.

The problem now was finding them. The Carnival would be simple enough to find, after all hundreds of people found it every night when it opened its gates to the public. But the question was would they stay there long enough to make it worth his while returning for now? There was little choice, he'd never gotten his hands on Molly Walkers ability, so he'd have to track them the old fashioned way. Irritated Sylar stalked though Peter's apartment, a flick of his fingers turning the once sparse and overly clean rooms into a warzone of cracked walls, shattered glass and shredded linen. Petty, but satisfying. He smirked as he tore out the living room window and launched himself into the air, like telekinesis this borrowed ability felt more like his own than any of the others, like it was truly a part of him; of course given as he still had all of Nathan's memories it was hardly surprising.

It didn't take him long to locate the Carnival, there was a pattern to its movement, town to town and anywhere in-between. He'd made it a habit to keep tabs on the location whenever it shifted or moved on, watched carefully, putting it together as only he could. What he didn't expect was the small crowd of people who all turned as one to glare accusingly at him when he landed.

"What have you done?" Samuel was seething with rage and betrayal as he spat the words at him, moving aside so that he could clearly see the body of young girl her head caved in; the brain exposed. He slid forwards troubled as they refused to step back and allow him easy access, forcing him to shove them aside with a flick of his wrist.

"I just got here." he muttered; not even bothering to answer their accusations. They were too afraid to attack him, at least for now, apparently Becky wasn't worth potentially dying over. He stared down at the brain and felt the shiver of sensation as he couldn't help but see exactly how she'd worked, and how her ability worked. "Fascinating." He whispered drawing scandalised looks from every face in ear shot.

"Explain yourself Sylar!" Samuel grabbed his arm, forcing their gazes to lock. "Why her?" he snarled, "Why now?" Sylar frowned exploring the thoughts from Samuel's mind as if he were flicking through a magazine, surprisingly he'd actually cared about the girl, she was a ward of his of sorts, someone he felt responsible for, felt a kinship too. It wasn't quite paternal, more like fraternal, the older brother perhaps. But oddly enough he didn't want to fight the man, with the hunger gone he was able to finally see the Carnival for the potential it might have, the home it could offer him if he chose. It was after all a breeding ground for _specials_ and he was going to live forever... the possibilities loomed before him and he surprised the knowing smile he wanted to give. If he wanted he could create an army of _specials_ primed from birth to accept him, love him, protect him if necessary.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts with great effort he returned to the issue at hand, "I didn't." He shrugged; as if that explained everything. "But I have a fairly shrewd idea of who did." Samuel's eyes searched his face as he turned his pained expression to Lydia, looking no doubt for confirmation of his story; she nodded imperceptibly and he turned back.

"Who did this? Who killed one of our own, within the safety of our own house!" Samuel's voice carried letting the others know that it would not go unpunished, and Sylar couldn't help but smirk slightly, things were going his way for once.

"Peter Petrelli." Curiously Samuel's expression deflated, his anger becoming confusion.

"Peter... but how, why?"

Sylar debated what to say, they knew he and Claire had gone to visit Peter today so clearly something had happened to change the mild mannered hero into a brutal killer. He could lie of course, tell them that Peter had been so enraged to realise that Claire had been kidnapped by a Carnival, brainwashed into staying and abandoning him, that he'd snapped, swearing vengeance. But that wasn't nearly as fun as the truth.

"Peter took my ability." He explained calmly. "In his defence I'm fairly certain it was an accident; he was trying to drain the life out of me at the time... "

"That's not possible. It wouldn't explain why..." Samuel trailed off his expression darkening. "So he's been corrupted then." He added quietly, Sylar didn't even need to read his mind to understand what he was feeling, he was a collector and he'd just lost a prized piece that would never quite be the genuine article again.

"Where's Claire?" Lydia's question was entirely expected but it still caused a flicker of irritation inside of him, which further twisted his gut. He'd become so used to having her at his side, of being able to reach out and touch her, pull her against him and watch the fight bleed out of her eyes with every futile struggle; that now he felt a little empty, alone.

"Peter took her; I'm guessing Becky surprised them during the escape attempt that brought them here; Peter's instincts took over..." he trailed off pointing to the body; not needing to elaborate further.

"We have to find him." Lydia cut off his next sentence, seemingly reading his mind. "He's unstable, Sylar's ability is unstable even in a body and mind designed for it; in Peter it will be disastrous."

"Oh I intend to go after him. I just needed to pick up the trail here first." Sylar spoke into the ringing silence following Lydia's speech. "Peter took something that was mine; two things in fact, I intend to retrieve at least one of them today."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him knowing full well that he had no intention of taking back the hunger; oh he'd kill Peter if it came down to that, but it was almost fun to have someone like him out there again. A challenge; after all you couldn't truly win unless there was a battle.


	9. Chapter 9

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 9**

Peter was pacing and with every agitated step as his hands clutched at his hair in near desperation, the more nervous Claire became. Peter had killed a girl and whilst at the time he hadn't seemed to care; too caught up in the elation of taking a power, he was feeling it now. They'd made it several miles through the fields surrounding the Carnival on foot, cloaked in Becky's ability before he'd given up all pretences and collapsed sobbing against her; leaving her to half drag him towards the shelter of a nearby abandoned barn.

"Peter." She whispered quietly, they hadn't nearly gotten far enough away from the Carnival to be safe, the others would have found Becky by now, they'd come after them. She could only hope they'd think it was Sylar and leave it at that, too scared to do more.

Peter's eyes snapped to hers and she flinched fractionally at the stranger she saw there. "We can't stay here." she told him something she was certain he was already well aware of, but she had to speak, needed to hear his voice to confirm that the man in front of her was the same one.

"This is your fault." He snarled at her darting forwards and grabbing her by the back of the head, forcing their faces inches apart, his body pinning her against the jagged wooden slats behind. She barely dared to breathe, it was like trying to have a conversation with a bull only she seemed to be dressed in red. His eyes darted over her face, scanning her but for what she wasn't sure. "You were always trouble Claire." He whispered, slamming her head back into the wood and making her see stars momentarily. "It's always about you." he spat his anger causing him to go translucent for a brief second.

"Let go of me." Claire told him sharply, shoving at his chest and finding him a far easier target to budge than Sylar ever had been. But he was right back in front of her, his hand closing around her windpipe as he squeezed, she closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of is eyes like that.

"I didn't get it before." He whispered, but she wasn't fooled she kept her eyes squeezed shut. "What he saw in you..." her eyes snapped open with hurt and widened when she saw his satisfied smirk; a mirror of the one she was so used to seeing. "You were just a cheerleader with a power; you should have been any other victim to him. Even when he lost you, when we made it personal, you still should have been nothing more than a bargaining chip, an ability to steal." She couldn't help it, anger bubbled up in her chest at the man she'd always secretly loved as his words sliced into her like a blade. "But you weren't, were you Claire." His lips pressed thin. "I can see it now." Peter's head cocked to the side, the bangs of his hair falling into his eyes unnoticed. "After Homecoming it was never about your ability... oh don't get me wrong, your ability was important, but that's not what he sees when he looks at you; that's not what I can see now."

Claire remained absolutely still, as if he were a snake about to strike the killing blow and could be dissuaded if she only didn't move.

"You draw the hunger out like it's a living thing." He breathed and she shuddered at his proximity, his fingers brushing down from her throat to cradle her back, forcing them closer. "You're complex, like a puzzle that goes on without end; something that can be pulled apart and rearranged without ever losing its shape. It's fascinating." He admitted, stroking her cheek with his thumb almost tenderly despite the vile words he was hissing against her ear.

"Peter stop. You're scaring me please. Just stop." She pleaded quietly, barely trusting her own voice as his grip tightened, but he gave no other indication that he could hear her.

"Of course there's also the other reason he wants you; I can see that too now, understand exactly what it is he feels when he looks at you." Peter laughed lightly. "Forever is a long time Claire... it's just prudent planning to claim the only other person that will be around to see it."

Claire felt tears well in her eyes as she savagely blinked them away, feeling her jaw tense; Peter understood Sylar now... because he was just like him. Only it was worse, he thought he was noble, honourable, that he was doing the right thing; there was no reasoning with that.

"Peter let me go." She told him firmly, praying for even a moment of sanity. "Don't do this." His eyes narrowed, as a flicker of something crossed his features before they hardened, resolving themselves. She knew what was coming, knew it the moment she'd seen him peel apart Becky's skull like it was the wrapping paper over a particularly _special_ present.

"I can't fight him if I'm dead Claire." He reasoned calmly, as if that made it all right.

"If you do this I'll never forgive you Peter. You'll be no better than him. Can't you see that!" she swore at him, the fear fuelling adrenalin and refusing to let her stand aside idly whilst her very own worst nightmare happened all over again. "Please don't become this." she tried one last time as he pinned her arms violently down at her sides to stop her from clawing at him in her attempts to escape.

"Don't worry Claire; you won't even feel it this time." He smiled softly at her, before grasping her shoulders and throwing her heavily onto the dusty moss encrusted floorboards; using his own body to pin her struggling form.

"NO!" she screeched, her body far quicker than her mind to react to him as it delivered a blow with sickening force to his crotch that stole the breathe from him as he collapsed over her. She rolled him off as he reached feebly for her, using the adrenalin to scuttle away across the floor from him. But it only took an instant for her eyes to dart towards the exit and return to the place he'd been, only he wasn't there. Her chest constricted in panic as she scanned the empty ruined room, the wind whistling through the empty windows and holes revealing nothing.

"Peter." She pleaded softly, pressing herself against the far wall and tearing a jagged splinter of wood free from the floor clutching it helplessly to her chest; she couldn't kill Peter, not like she'd tried to kill Sylar when he'd threatened her with same thing. A blow to her head sent her to the floor, she saw black for a moment before her ability dealt with the trauma. Rolling she watched, unable to stop it as Peter's boot crashed against her face, something cracked and blood clouded her vision as he grasped at her hands. He made quick work of them forcing her onto her front and wrapping the thick leather of his belt around them tightly enough to cut off circulation. "Peter stop, don't!" she tried to reach him, swinging her legs as he flipped her over trapping her hands beneath her; but he was fuelled by anger now and could clearly see nothing but her ability as he reached for her head and slammed it back against the floor with enough force to knock her out. When she came to he was kneeling over her waist, his hand gripping a piece of twisted metal that he was lowering carefully to her forehead.

"I'd recommend staying still." He hissed as he gripped her chin with his other hand cutting off her attempts to turn her head out of his way, "I don't have nearly the same precision as Sylar had... yet." He sounded nothing like the Peter she'd known and loved, this was some cold calculating imposter; a man so broken by the loss of his family and the hunger gnawing away inside of him that he'd lost all reason.

Blood dripped into her eyes as his expression grew intense, she could feel the pressure on her skin as he moved, his biceps beneath the thin dark t-shirt he wore flexing as he worked through her skull.

He was right, he did lack Sylar's precision. Whilst it hadn't been painless, it had at least been quick the last time she'd had to endure this. But Peter took his time, the sounds of metal scraping against bone jarring her as the blood began to pool around them. She couldn't bring herself to speak to him as he raised both hands and pulled away her skull, holding it in front of him like it was some kind of treasure, before he carefully placed it down besides them and returned to what was clearly the prize. His hands descended and she shut her eyes, he looked positively euphoric above her, his face alight with fascination as he probed her brain. His body pressed against hers as he leant closer, examining no doubt every inch and allowing her to realise just how euphoric her _dear Uncle_ was really feeling. Bile rose in her throat as his erection ground against her stomach, his breath fanning out over her face and reminding her of just how intimate this whole thing was. Flashes of the last time flooded her and she bit down hard against the hysterical scream that wanted to tear loose. The last time she hadn't understood, not truly, why she had felt so ashamed, so used after Sylar was done with her, the way he left her covered in her own blood, to clean up the mess. But she'd been raped since then, repeatedly, she understood now that this was just another form of rape. Her body used for their purposes, invaded and exposed. The fact that it was Peter this time only made the violation that much worse, he was supposed to be her hero, her Uncle, she was supposed to be able to trust him.

His weight left her and she opened her eyes in time to watch him stand, his eyes flicked to her skull cap and back to her; she absorbed every inch of him, noting the blood buried beneath his fingernails, splashed across his face, the sweat on his brow dripping into his eye; the straining erection behind his jeans. This was her hero and she hated him for it.

He left; she listened to the sounds of his heavy breaths and even louder footfalls until they too faded. She blinked slowly, forcing air into her straining lungs as she tried to think clearly past the haze that was starting to become overwhelming, she wanted to sleep. He hadn't put her skull back on. The thought brought a measure of dark amusement to her. He'd never been that bright; at least she was assuming he simply hadn't realised she couldn't heal from this without help. Of course it could have been deliberate. After all if she was what Sylar wanted then why let him win and Peter was all about making Sylar pay now, perhaps this was his solution, take her away?

Claire wasn't sure which idea was worse. There was a cure for pride... just not stupidity.

Her lungs stopped responding, one moment she was drawing in air the next she couldn't even feel her chest. Darkness began to creep along the edges of her vision as she stared at the broken roof. It should be night she mused; things like this always seemed more real under the harsh light of day.


	10. Chapter 10

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 10**

It was her mind that led him to her; those last few dark whispering thoughts as she succumbed to unconsciousness, her body shutting down. He hovered above the barn, waiting, listening as Peter dithered about what to do, his panic overcoming reason. He was horrified, lost in his own pain, unable to take his eyes off his blood soaked hands instead of looking at the damage he'd done to his precious Claire. It didn't take much on his part, just a small shove to get him to run, to leave her like that; the suggestion that his panic take over, letting his thirst for revenge allow him to consider the idea that leaving her to die would be for the greater good. Idiot... he smirked watching Peter as he fled across the fields and disappeared into the woods, he'd probably be running from this event forever.

Sylar stalked into the ruined barn; it had taken him entirely too long to track them given the circumstances. He paused taking in the sight of Claire exposed and broken like this again, her glassy eyes staring upwards as her brain began to die; the skull cap sitting neatly beside her head. It might as well have been on mars for all the good it did her there. His hatred for Peter intensified as he swept towards her and he regretted even hesitating a moment to manipulate him whilst she lay like this, ducking down he picked up the bloodied scalp, the once blonde hair matted with dark red. Sylar lowered it carefully, aligning the wounds before kneeling back and waiting.

It was slow this time... almost painfully so, a full minute ticked by before the wound knit seamlessly together and her chest rose drawing in a sharp breath as her eyes flew open. She blinked before becoming aware of him, her eyes drifting to his.

He'd expected her to regret opening them, particularly to him, that she'd have preferred to stay dead this time. Only he didn't hear that in her thoughts, curiously he inched closer, running his hand across her cheek as he tried to absorb what she was thinking.

"Thank you." she told him quietly, her lips twisting in distaste as she said it, but still, the word and the intent were clear enough. Claire hadn't wanted to die, not even if it meant having to wake to him... he wondered if that was part of her ability too, an aversion to suicidal thoughts.

He nodded tersely at her as she sat up; he shifted forwards and caught her hands that were still tied behind her back. Sylar snapped the leather of the belt with a gesture and drew her hands around to the front, caressing them with his own as colour returned to them, but it didn't halt the trembling. Lifting his head he realised she was staring at him, a shrewd expression on her face.

"It's gone isn't it... it's all in him now." She deducted smoothly and he felt a sliver of pride in her, clearly she'd been paying closer attention to him than he'd realised, but then again she still didn't quite understand her importance to him, seeing her dying like that was almost painful.

"I still have my ability Claire," he smirked, crushing her futile hope that maybe he would be different now. "But the hunger's gone." He admitted, drawing her hands up to his lips and dropping a kiss to the back of each hand as he examined his own reactions to her now, feeling her panic melt away into shock; she actually felt safer now that he was here... oh the irony of that.

"Let me go then." She told him firmly, sliding her hands out of his to stare him down, he let out a bark of laughter at her presumption and caught her defiant chin with one hand, holding it still as he used his sleeve to wipe away the blood trail from across her forehead.

"You think because I've lost the hunger I no longer need you." he couldn't help it he laughed faintly again, chuckling to himself as her expression darkened. "Peter's an idiot Claire." He pointed out, realising even as he said it that she was well aware of the fact. "Do you really think he was right about me; about what drives me?" he smirked, reading her mind and plucking the conversation out of her head. "Peter told you what he thought based on his own feelings. He gave you _his_ reasons for needing you Claire... not mine." She shuddered but refused to drop his hard stare, pinning him with accusations.

"You want to know why?" he teased, stalking forwards until she was backed up against yet another wall.

"Yes." She snapped, looking thoroughly unamused by the situation she was still in. Beneath the surface she was a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, of decisions that hung on the precipice, all he had to do was nudge them in the right direction.

"I wanted your power Claire." He told her simply, "And when I had that, it wasn't enough. I wanted more, it felt... unsatisfying. Like I'd won the consolation prize instead of the main event." He raised his hands to cradle her face, sweeping them through her hair as he picked his next lines carefully. "The hunger brought me to you Claire... but it wasn't what kept me coming back. You did that all by yourself. We're alike you see."

Her eyes narrowed and she gave him that disbelieving half petulant, all defiance look she had down so well. "We're both immortal that's it!" She snapped, barely understanding herself what that meant.

"That should be enough on its own." He murmured fighting the urge to press his lips to her trembling ones, as he leant into her enjoying the feel of her soft curves fitting around his hard lines. "We're both the product of our families Claire, of what we were made. Other people's manipulations and ambitions. We were both innocent once... but inside of us, lurking out of sight, waiting, was always the capacity for more, for darkness Claire, for a place where anger and rage could fuel you, giving you strength and purpose."

It was a sign this time that she didn't attempt to deny it; she didn't need him pressing her own memories into her mind to understand finally what he meant. _Brody's body breaking as the car hit the wall; Jackie's face as her nose shattered; Debbie's horrified scream as Claire's body broke against the ground; the adrenalin rush and fear all blending into one as she drove the knife into his chest; the thrill of satisfaction as the volts slammed into Peter Cranfield's body dropping him like a stone; the sweet sound of his skull giving way as the glass slid into his brain. _Claire flinched as each memory hit her, but her eye were unapologetic, she'd enjoyed the moments of darkness that had seeped into her life and she couldn't deny that to him. Just like a part of her secretly enjoyed the way her body responded to his touch, the heat his stare brought to her skin and the savage pleasure she took at the idea that a man that could have anything would want her. This was her fascination to him, this contradiction, the warring of twin desires; fight and flight, love and hate, light and darkness.

"What do you want Claire?" he dropped his head to her jaw and nipped lightly at the skin, letting the coarse stubble on his cheeks scratch across her delicate ones, until his mouth could latch onto her neck. Her head dropped back against the wood behind her and she lifted her hand to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his thick dark hair, torn between wanting to tear him off and pull him closer.

He dared her to say '_a normal life'_ almost willed it; because he could tear apart that fantasy so easily, twist it, until he'd corrupted the very notion of it. But she didn't.

"I want to be happy." She whispered. "I don't want to watch the people I love die. I want what _**I**_ want to matter." There was steel in her voice when she was done and she yanked his head back by his hair until it was level with hers, blistering him with the intensity of her eyes; absolutely certain that he couldn't give her that.

"I can make you happy." He promised quirking his lips as he hid the smile, her derision caused; she had no idea, worse she barely even understood what she needed herself. "The people you love would have died eventually Claire, old and withered, hating you for your youth and health, blaming you for not being able to save them forever. I spared you that; you're family died loving you, believing utterly that you were strong enough to survive anything." Her mouth opened and closed as she bit down on her response, not sure what to make of that; the confusion dug in; worming its way into her consciousness for later. "I'm the only one that knows what you really want Claire; the only one that it matters to now."

Claire snorted in disgust. "You only know how to manipulate me into wanting something." He chuckled, satisfied, after all she had a point.

"It seems to me you have a choice Claire." He pulled away from her, smirking as she tried not to feel bereft without the warmth of his body closing around her; his solid form shielding her from the horror of what had happened in this room. His questions keeping her mind from dwelling on Peter and what he'd done to her. Which was exactly the response he'd wanted.

He turned around, crossing his arms to stare at her as if her answer really meant very little to him. "Peter is going to become every inch and worse than the monster I was. Good people always go wrong in the most interesting ways; they have so much further to sink than the rest of us you see." He winked at her and she swallowed reflexively, not doubting it. "It would seem that Peter has no use for you... not yet at least. Only as a tool to use against me. You don't want to die Claire, or to be used as a pawn in a power struggle." He reasoned, Claire's expression was carefully neutral as she listened intently. But he didn't need her expression, he already knew every dark little deviant thought she could come up with.

"Say it." She spat; he face twisting in loathing and pain as she waited for him to get to the point; knowing full well what he wanted.

"It's me or Peter." He smiled warmly at her holding his hand out. "He'll hurt you to get to me either way. At least with me you stand a fighting chance." Neither of them bothered to point out the fact that he wasn't about to simply let her leave if she chose Peter or refused to choose at all. What good would it do to point something like that out? She understood that he was offering her the illusion of choice it was more than he'd usually given her.

"All you do is hurt me!" She pointed out unable to contain it.

He cocked his head; the comment was obvious, _'you only hurt the ones you love'_ and he refused to make it, not even sure he could love anything. He wanted her, was obsessed, that was enough for now. Instead he remained silent, watching her through unfathomable eyes as she drew her own conclusions. Her hand rose and she stepped forwards, sliding it into his and meeting his stare head on, daring him to comment.

"Promise me you'll stop Peter before he kills more people. I can't watch him become that." He tightened his grip, pulling her flush against him and wrapping his arms around her; it was impossible to deny how right she felt against him as she sunk into his embrace, drawing comfort from it even as she hated herself for finding any there.

"Unless I'm mistaken, you just had a front row seat to his debut performance." He reminded her, tightening his arms as she tensed suddenly regretting her decision to stand so close to him; as if he could ever be the better choice...

"Shhh." He smirked as she grew still against him, "I'll take care of dear Uncle Peter. Or I'll have you do it." She glared balefully at him, but internally... she quietly agreed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead content that she wasn't too broken from her experience; apparently whilst his monstrous act against her had led to apathy, Peter's only incited her fury. But then betrayal was always such an ugly word. Perhaps it was a cliché but he felt it needed to be said never the less, "This world isn't big enough for two Sylar's."


	11. Chapter 11

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 11 **

From the view where she sat Claire could see the entire Carnival, thankfully up her she was relatively invisible to the crowds swarming in for a bit of weekend fun. She tucked her knees up and rested her head against them listening to the wind rippling along the canvas of the big top. She was still surprised that Sylar was giving her so much freedom; she might have to return to the trailer with him, sleep beside him and resist the urge to carve him into small chunks; but she no longer had to spend every waking moment in his presence. Probably because there really was nowhere else for her to go now; Peter hadn't exactly been keeping a low profile, former prisoners of the Company and Building 26 had been found dead. Naturally Sylar was being blamed because of the circumstances; but it seemed that Peter's invisible man trick was really paying off for him.

There was the small comfort now of course that without the hunger it seemed Sylar's patience had improved, he no longer went around scalping people just because he could, granted that would have thinned the ranks of their _family_ somewhat. Instead his largely ignored empathy was coming into its own, albeit slowly. It had been strangely amusing to watch Samuel's face as Sylar casually split the earth beneath the other man's feet with his own power; she almost dreaded to think exactly how many abilities he had now.

There was a rush of wind and Claire sighed, so much for peace and quiet.

"Moping?" Sylar's voice brushed her ear, entirely too close for comfort, but exactly where he wanted to be no doubt.

"Thinking." She clarified as his arms slid around her waist, tugging her back against his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes briefly; she'd learnt that patience and tolerance were quite literally the only way she'd survive this. Neither were traits she'd had in abundance. At least her body was under her own control whilst she played the quiet, somewhat dejected house wife for him. But then she wasn't entirely sure what it was he wanted from her, or expected; lately he'd been so preoccupied by Peter and his newest exploits, that she'd been left for ever longer periods of time to her own devices. Not that she was complaining...

"You know you can't hide up here forever." He told her quietly, his deep voice barely a rumble against the skin on her neck where he'd buried his head.

"Of course not, you'd throw me off before I got the chance." She muttered; he chuckled but didn't bother to deny it.

His hands slid beneath her top grazing the flesh on her stomach and she suppressed the urge to tense. He hadn't touched her in at least three days and the skin crawling effect of his proximity had actually started to fade into the back of her mind; but it roared to life now as his large hands palmed her breasts roughly. "You missed me." He taunted not waiting for her response as he bit down on the delicate skin between her neck and jaw.

"I missed the nausea; I was almost starting to feel normal." His grip tightened fractionally and she suppressed the smirk, he still held onto to some sick convoluted idea that she'd want him one day. He was psychotic though, so she understood his confusion; in his mind he was young, eternally so, dark and mysterious, with more than a little of the bad guy vibe about him to attract any woman he decided to raise that ridiculously sturdy eyebrow at. The notion that he'd forced her to murder her entire family, had kidnapped, raped and otherwise destroyed her life didn't seem to enter into the equation for him.

"It enters into it." He replied, reading her mind with the apparent ease that she'd already grown tired of. "But I'll admit it is dismissed quickly." He smiled against her skin and pressed his palm flat against her stomach sliding it smoothly beneath the tight denim shorts he'd left out on the bed for her to wear this morning. God forbid she actually be allowed to choose her own clothing. The feel of his fingers however sliding between her legs caused the same primal reaction every time, but she liked to think she'd learnt to mask it well enough by gripping his hair tightly and pulling at exactly the right moment to simulate passion instead of panic.

His unoccupied hand gripped her chin firmly, angling her face to his so that she couldn't pull away from his mouth as it descended over her. The other actions she could fake; could lay there and pretend with, but not this... and the bastard knew that. He forced her unresponsive mouth apart with a particularly unsubtle thrust of his questing fingers between her legs, forcing her to draw in a shaky breath along with his tongue.

"Kiss me." He insisted, pulling away long enough to turn her in his arms so that she had no choice but to face him and give him better access as he drew her legs around his waist.

"No." She replied hotly, in such forced proximity their lips touched as she spoke; it was the one thing she refused to be bullied into and apparently his only scruple about controlling her for. His expression pinched for a second like it usually did when he didn't get his own way, before he sighed and contented himself with forcing her body to react in other ways. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the night sky around her. Gritting her teeth she rode out the orgasm he fingers teased from her with barely a breath out of place, "Why bother with me at all." She questioned him abruptly as he tugged at the belt on his pants. "You have Peter to play with for all eternity now."

He paused in the act of freeing his ever hard member and glared at her scandalously. "If I didn't know better Claire, I'd think you were jealous." His thumb brushed over her lips, tempting her to bite it off, she refrained with some effort; but only because she hated it when he brought blood into it, she'd be damned if she'd draw first. He chuckled at her thoughts and set to work on her shorts. "Besides you're far more fun." He rasped sliding his hands behind her to grasp her ass firmly and lift.

"People will see." She told him coolly, highly doubting it would matter in the least to him that their somewhat precarious precision on a crow's nest at the top of the big top tent; wasn't exactly well concealed. But she hated that people might witness her at her weakest, worse that they would be forced to ignore it.

"Let them." He murmured finally freeing her to his hungry gaze as he pulled her sharply onto his lap; only Sylar she was certain could have aimed well enough to let him slide straight into her like that. The movement stole her breath as he brushed her cervix the pressure and abrupt fullness the closest thing to pain she was every likely to experience.

"I hate you." she gasped as he thrust out and back in again violently; his hands digging in to her ass as he forced himself inside up to the hilt again. She'd said it every time he'd forced her into this; at least when she'd had a voice of her own and the intensity of that hate never dimmed; what concerned her was that it never got stronger either, it was like she'd hit a wall, she hated him as much as was apparently possible. All that was left was backwards from that... his thrusts grew harder and she stifled a groan as the angle brought him directly into contact with that spot; on reflex she gripped his shoulders, to anyone looking she was riding him, when in fact her motion was entirely his doing. His strong hands braced her as he kept her in position, not giving an inch today. Her orgasm happened quickly, leaving her breathless and boneless against him, but he wasn't nearly finished and she breathlessly accepted the change of position when he flipped them, pressing her back against the chain metal flooring. The unpleasant thought that people would see her like this refused to leave and she bit her lip, trying not to push at his shoulders like she wanted to but simply use them as a brace for his violent thrusts.

"No one...ugh....can see." He managed to get out around grunts, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and his hips gave one last violent thrust into her before he seemed to seize, burying his head in her neck and biting down sharply to prevent his exultant shout from vocalising as he came hard. Claire simply lay there, feeling the results of his labour dripping between them, she'd have given anything for pain, something to remind her how god awful rape was supposed to be, but all she ever felt was numb, numb and filthy. Sylar lifted his head, grasping her face in his hands as he planted a sloppy kiss to her mouth around his soft smile. She hated that smile the most, worse than his smirk, he always wore it when they were lying like this, him softening inside of her, refusing to get off and out.

"No one can see." He murmured, picking up the conversation as if he hadn't just used her violently; "I wouldn't let them." He breathed, that stupid smile widening again as his eyes danced with genuine emotion, he'd probably made them both invisible she reasoned, but she doubted it was for something as honest as her pride. "No one gets to see you like this but me." No as usual he'd done it for himself; Claire rolled her eyes and looked away from his as he finally slipped from her, taking his time to rearrange her clothing.

Claire sat up and pulled her shirt back down, finishing rearranging her bra herself until she was decent again, doing her best to simply ignore him. At times like this, when her loathing and hatred for him was at its strongest and her own sense of self worth at its lowest, she sometimes wondered what exactly he intended to do when he had no more family left to threaten her with. Eventually she was going to decide enough was enough and find Peter, either to attempt to stop him, or have him kill her finally. Perhaps Peter had the right idea, that death was preferable to this... a hundred lifetimes with Sylar.

Sylar's hand brushed through her hair, as if reminding her gently that he could hear her, but refraining from comment; it was oddly considerate for him.

"I need to tell you something." He broke through her less than pleasant train of thought, drawing her attention reluctantly back to him. "It's about Peter." Claire tried not to think too hard, if he was about to tell her he was dead then her last set of thoughts would be irrelevant. Besides that though, she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about her _Uncle_ any more.

"Hiro Nakimura is dead." There was a beat where she merely listened to the words, not understanding what he'd said, before it filtered through.

"What?" was all she could manage staring bewildered at him. "Peter killed Hiro?" she drew the logical conclusion and Sylar's lips thinned.

"Not directly no." Sylar added eyeing her shrewdly.

"The tumour?" she asked hating the way her voice broke on the word.

A curl quirked the corner of his lips "No... messier." She balked at that momentarily.

"So Peter can travel through time now." She reasoned, a sinking feeling in her gut, "Again." She added recalling that he'd had that ability for years before and failed to use it effectively.

"I didn't say Peter killed him." Sylar replied quietly, the rumble to his voice causing a flicker of unfortunate arousal in her already sensitised body, she grit her teeth hating that he could play her like this, especially when they were discussing something so awful.

"Peter attacked him, tried to get his power, but Hiro's got a knack for getting out of tight spots. I found him, but it was already too late." Claire felt tears well up before she blinked them away, Sylar brushed one of the tears that got loose off her cheek carefully, examining it. "I have his ability." Sylar continued softly, as if somehow that made it all better. "Seemed a shame to waste it, he was already dead, didn't feel a thing. I destroyed the body of course, wouldn't want Peter getting his eager little hands on it would we?" Claire felt the impact of his words like a punch, it took her a moment to steady herself Peter hadn't killed Hiro, not directly, but he may as well have. Only now it was Sylar that had the ability to bend time to his will. Was that better? The answer seemed easy enough, Sylar had control, intelligence and a healthy respect for the abilities he stole, Peter had none of the above. Resigned she had to admit she'd rather Sylar have it than Peter.

"He'd only screw it up." Claire conceded bitterly, not needing to explain her thought process to him, he was probably well aware of it. The small selfish thought that Peter might have used it against her stung, she couldn't believe that he'd fallen so far so fast. But then he had no family now, nothing to anchor him and he'd longed for his abilities back for so long now; it was probably only fuelling the hunger to incredible intensity.

Claire kept her gaze locked on the ground, too afraid to look up for fear she'd tear Sylar's eyes out. Why was it, he always had a way of twisting her thoughts into something vile? His hand smoothed along her back, stroking; as if she'd ever find his touch soothing.

"There's something else." He pressed, refusing to speak further until she lifted her head to look at him, dutifully she did so. "Another old friend of yours who was in hiding from dear Peter. Apparently she'd been following the Carnival for a while, but every time she tried to make it inside Peter would appear and attempt to lobotomise her."

Claire frowned, feeling odd listening to the awful thing's Peter was doing this time; rather than Sylar. But something stirred her memory, a woman looking for the Carnival...

Voices from below filtered up to her and she turned her gaze down, from the height she couldn't make out much, but the blonde hair and the sudden exuberant behaviour of Samuel was clear indication that they had a new family member.

Her breath began to mist in front of her face as tendrils of ice lanced down her right arm and stopped right before Sylar's hand.

Sylar smirked indicating what was clearly Tracy with a nod of his head and with no small amount of smugness, announced "Apparently I'm her hero."

* * *

**A/N: This weekend may be a little slow for updates, my Doctoral Viva is on Monday so I'm preparing for that, but after Monday they should be back to speedy. Thank you to all of you that are reading and reviewing, I'm glad you're enjoying this.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

It was too easy to look bored and detached so Claire attempted to twist her expression into bored and mysterious, fortunately she turned it right at the approaching group of young men that slid up beside her and around her booth as she hopped down from the wooden surface to meet them with false enthusiasm.

"Welcome to the house of freaks." She smiled thinly at them as they smirked back at her, she could almost feel the one liner's about to zing her way as they all attempt to outdo each other trying to get her attention. But then that was what she was here for, rope in the guys with more money than sense, the fact that they were more likely to think with their boners was just a plus.

"Care to test your endurance?" Claire smiled almost shyly, she'd been at this for a few weeks, the first of which had been the worst, but she was starting to find a rhythm. It was all about keeping that teasing tone with the dark glint she knew her eyes held now. Tracy called it her _'come hither and get it bitten off stare'_; apparently guys liked the soft innocent face rocking the leather pants and sheer top. The only problem was it wasn't an act; she knew what they called her behind her back at the Carnival now and sometimes to her face. She was Sylar's whore, his broken doll, immortal victim. So be it, one day she'd prove to them just how far from broken she was.

A soft, bland voice reminded her of current situation "If you're selling I am most definitely buying." Claire's attention returned to the young men in front of her, college frat boys by the looks of them. Just out for a good night; it was almost quant to her now; her family had warped her idea of normal long before she'd been forced to slaughter them and now normal was just so far off her radar that she had to blink twice sometimes when she saw it up close like this.

Claire's lips widened and she showed him her perfect white teeth. "$20 is yours if you can hold your hand in the ice longer than me... if not your money and your pride is mine." The guy grinned, his friends nudging him and shoving him on, but she didn't just want one of them, there was a reason she was quickly earning her place in the carnival, she knew how to get men to part with their money apparently. "What you all too scared to give it a go yourselves?" she reached forward and traced her hand down the chest of the young man who'd stood furthest back, clearly the shyest, she paused at his stomach and looked up through her eyelashes at him, her very own Sylar grin on her face. "How about $20 each and a kiss for the winner... we could make it a team sport?"

Hands went into their wallets and she fought to keep from rolling her eyes... too easy.

Twenty minutes later she waved them off as they flexed their blue hands attempting to get feeling to return to them, muttering between themselves as they went _'damn ice queen' 'bet you'd like to thaw her out' 'relight her fire'_ She stopped listening after that, if they wanted a real ice queen they should go see Tracy, the source of her handy bucket of ever constant ice, she'd teach them a thing or too. But apparently her new life at the Carnival didn't include pulling tricks for the public, she was more than happy to work behind the scenes, once a politician....

"Having fun?" Claire turned her bored stare on Edgar as she propped herself up against her booth, the outfit making it look unintentionally sexy as her skin tight, nearly sheer top, rode up revealing her stomach and pulling taught across her breasts; there was the barest flicker of his expression as he tried to keep his eyes on her face, but she saw it and smirked. The one thing she was discovering about life at the Carnival was that she wasn't nearly as powerless as she'd first thought.

"Don't I always." She smiled thin lipped at him as another group of young men who were approaching her did an abrupt u-turn at the sight of the large well muscled guy tossing a knife between his fingers in front of her. "You're ruining my mystique." She muttered with genuine irritation; after all this was a power trip for her and given as she spent the rest of her life obeying a man's every whim she felt she was owed this.

Edgar slid closer using what to him must have seemed like painfully slow movements until he was right in front of her, the glint of his knife catching her eye as it moved with inhuman speed through his fingers. "I was just hoping you might like to join my act again... one night special." He grinned roguishly at her and she snorted. Sylar had thrown a fit last time she'd strapped herself onto Edgar's wheel of death in that skimpy outfit and let him hurl blades at her. Apparently he was the only one that got to make her bleed. Sick bastard.

But Edgar's offer was far too tempting and he knew it. She rolled her eyes at him and quite deliberately slid into his personal space; forcing him to suck in his chest to avoid touching her... something else no one but Sylar was allowed to do.

"My boyfriend has a temper you know." She whispered sarcastically watching the tension pool between his brow, "and he doesn't play well with others." Edgar took in a sharp breath and stepped away from her like she was painful to be so close to. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so true.

He stared evenly at her. "Offer's always there." He told her quietly before striding away without looking back. Claire watched him leave, trying not to dwell on quite how uncomplicated her life would be if she simply stopped caring.

"He's an interesting man." Tracy's voice startled her out of her dark thoughts and she glanced up at the older woman who dropped another bucket frozen solid onto her booth. Tracy and Edgar had gotten along right from the moment they'd met, although she couldn't see the common ground between them for the life of her. "I quite like him, especially breathing..." Tracy sent her a dark look that needed little interpretation. "You know what Sylar will do to him if he catches the two of you within three feet again, particularly if you're only half dressed."

Claire rolled her eyes. Tracy had been horrified of course to find her in the situation she was in, but she was nothing if not adaptable and of course it helped that from her perspective Peter was the monster now. Now she was starting to treat her much like everyone else did, like she was dangerous and that so much as breathing the wrong word to her would bring the wrath of Sylar down upon them. That and she probably did quite like Edgar with all his limbs attached.

"Then get him to back off." Claire snapped finally. "It's not my fault he's got a death wish." Tracy's aggressive expression melted away and she glimpsed the woman behind the mask for a moment.

"Are you ok, Sylar hasn't been around for a while...this thing with Peter is taking up his time." She reasoned, "Maybe you could use this time to get to know people away from him." Tracy was at least trying; it was more than most people offered her these days. But she was right, Sylar had been gone more and more lately, so much in fact that he hadn't even had time to rape her properly, not since... she was surprised to realise it had been nearly four weeks since he'd touched her like that...a whole month.

But Tracy was still waiting for her answer, "I'm fine Tracy. You don't really want to hear about the details of my life. You made that quite clear, just like everyone else you want to pretend everything is fine. So why don't you go back to the others and tell them I'm not planning anything stupid whilst he's gone." God forbid they'd actually care about what would happen to her, more likely it was what Sylar would do to them if she tried to escape on their watch.

Tracy lifted her hand as if to touch her shoulder then dropped it, thinking better of it clearly as she shook her head and turned away. Just like everyone else.

The night passed quickly after that, she sat counting her takings, slowly becoming aware that she was being watched. Lifting her head she met the eyes of the shy young man from earlier; only he looked anything but shy now, he was staring openly at her, hands in his pockets, clearly waiting for her to see him.

"Looks like you had a good night." He indicated the wad of cash with his head, clearly expecting her to spout something about winning it fair and square. Like anything in this Carnival was fair.

"I usually do." She admitted, returning to separating the bills into piles.

"I thought it was an act you know." He continued, oblivious to her mood, the Carnival was closing, that meant he was supposed to leave.

"Oh?" she quirked an eyebrow, not even the slightest bit concerned he'd realised she had an ability; more likely he'd assume a trick.

"That whole innocence lost thing you've got going on. The little girl from Texas caught up in the big bad carnival." Now he had her attention, she lifted her head to stare coldly at him; apparently her accent was stronger than she'd thought.

"You should leave. Carnivals aren't safe places for college momma's boys like you, especially this one." She'd meant her words to be biting but they came out quietly.

"It's not an act is it?" He continued, "You've might have the face of an angel, but there's a devil sitting on your shoulder." Claire laughed, she couldn't help it.

"Let me guess... English major." She rolled her eyes at him. "Get lost." She countered, hating how close he was getting to the truth; her very own Devil stalked her shadow, not her shoulder.

"Psychology actually." He smiled smugly at her, something in that smile caught her attention and she struggled to comprehend the sudden flash of arousal she felt. He'd moved closer and she'd barely noticed until his hand went out and lowered over hers, stopping her aimless shuffling of the cash.

Her eyes flashed to his and she felt her breath catch, she knew the look he was giving her, had become far too familiar with it. What was surprising was the way her body responded to it now; she tried to ignore the tingle his touch brought, or the way her thighs pressed together trying to lessen the sensation starting there. Sylar hadn't touched her in weeks, a month... her body had been numb since then, painless, senseless, but the idea of feeling something like this again; her mouth went dry. He really had turned her into a whore.

It wasn't until she was tearing at the young man's jeans in attempt to free him as he pressed her back against an abandoned trailer and his face swam into her vision that she realised just who he resembled. The dark hair, heavy eyebrows, the curved lips, her stomach clenched violently as he wrapped her legs around his waist and slammed into her. The similarities were superficial... nothing more she promised herself as she closed her eyes; waiting for the sensations to tumble over her and remind her that she was alive, that her body could feel. His hips bucked violently and he let out a strangled moan, before going still... spent. Claire was too stunned to do more than tug her trousers back up as he slipped into his jeans, giving her a wry smile before waving and darting back into the meandering crowds heading for the exit. Claire watched him leave, she hadn't felt a god damn thing... he'd barely pushed inside of her. Dark amusement bubbled inside of her as she straightened up; trying not to feel like she'd been used.

That had been the kind of sex the girls always talked about, one minute wonders. Guys like that only saw one thing when they looked at her and it didn't matter at all if she got any satisfaction; it wasn't like they'd ever see her again. Bastard.

_Sylar always satisfied her._

The thought crept into her mind unbidden and she clenched her jaw, fighting tears. Bastard.

_She was never just a cheap fuck to Sylar._

Claire slammed her head back against the metal trailer in frustration, the pressure between her legs making her contemplate the impossible.

_Sylar wanted to keep her so much, he'd kidnapped her. _

'Stupid!' she berated herself; Sylar wasn't some handsome prince that had swept into her life with the promise of an eternal love... _or was he_?

'STOP IT!' she yelled internally, not willing to let the thoughts spiral. Sylar was a monster, a bastard, a rapist and kidnapper; murderer. A psychotic freak who happened to be her jailer, nothing else!

_Liar._

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the all the best wishes guys. It worked, it's now .PhD (does the happy dance usually only seen when we get Sylaire moments on screen). Glad you guys are still enjoying it, sorry if it is a little dark... I think it may get darker, or at least murkier. But you know that saying...light only shines in the darkness etc. etc.**


	13. Chapter 13

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 13:**

Sylar grew more distant, more than once she wondered why he hadn't punished her for the young frat boy, but over time she began to realise that he was simply far too distracted to pay all that much attention to her thoughts.

The Carnival was recruiting heavily it seemed, she smiled politely as yet another young hopeful was wheeled in front of her that morning, Samuel clapping him on the shoulder and drawing a cocky smile from him. The kid looked barely 15, surprisingly enough it was Sylar's reaction that was the most unusual to her, he looked almost... proud. She took the kids offered hand noting how his eyes flickered to Sylar in admiration far too many times for her liking. 'Luke' apparently could produce microwaves from his hands... a talent it seemed he liked to aim at living things a little too much. She pulled her hand away, watching the disappointment cloud his face as she didn't even register the burnt flesh that was good as new only seconds later.

Samuel however had tensed, watching Sylar's reaction to this nervously; even she was faintly bemused when Sylar merely placed an arm around the young man's shoulder and led him away, whispering conspiratorially. Samuel quirked an eyebrow at her, hoping for an explanation... like she was some sort of authority on the workings of his fucked up psyche. She rolled her eyes and shrugged at him, turning away, they kept insisting on making her involved in this little recruitment drive of theirs. Apparently much like she could stand at the front gates and entice people in at show times; she was equally able to make the young and 'normal' feel right at home. It was laughable really, only she wasn't. She understood however better than anyone... except perhaps Samuel, the real reasons behind the influx of specials. It was all about power... or powers and how Sylar's borrowed ability and Samuel's natural one was boosted a 1000 fold by it. She couldn't raise the proper enthusiasm that day when Sylar had told her that he'd have the power to move mountains... he'd been grouchy ever since.

Turning she watched Sylar disappear into the sky with a frown, he hadn't even bothered to say goodbye this time. She wasn't sure why that bothered her; it shouldn't, she should be pleased that his apparent interest in her had waned now that she was 'house broken'. A twinge of longing for the sensations he used to lavish on her when she hadn't wanted them brought a blush to her cheeks and a fresh wave of bile. Bastard.

That night as she fidgeted and flirted her way to $500 in the first few hours she couldn't help but notice Edgar's eyes on her... or the new kid Luke's. Something about that kid creeped her out, he was like a mini Sylar in waiting; only minus the charm... or the dark brooding appeal. Her stomach clenched and she tried not to think about Sylar and what her body wanted from him. Claire turned around sighing, it was a slow night, she sucked in a surprised breath coming face to face with Edgar; he grinned softly at her surprise.

"One night spectacular." He teased, flipping the blade between hands with crafted precision. "It's a slow night Claire... we all need a boost."

Eyeing him warily she found herself nodding, she spared a glance to the side again, looking for the creepy kid. He was gone and something about that unsettled her. Uneasily she put her hand in Edgar's and let him speed her to his tent. In moments the skimpy outfit that had so upset Sylar the first time was in her hands as he waited arms folded for her to say something. Probably 'turn around' or 'leave'. But the slow burning desire to feel something, to quench the god awful _need_ to be touched threatened. Keeping her eyes on his she pulled the stringy barely there tank top over her head and revealed her bare breasts to him. His eyes widened and he spluttered, spinning on his heel and covering his eyes with his hands, shaking his head violently as if to banish the image. She'd have been offended but she understood, he was probably taking Sylar's previous threats seriously. After all, _he_ could die.

"You'll be the death of me." His gravelly voice bit out from behind his hands and she chuckled, it was almost fun to have this kind of power over people.

"You're the one who wanted me in this crappy excuse for clothing." She muttered, tugging herself into the sequined white leotard that didn't even attempt to cover her back, arms, made a stab at reaching her cleavage and just about rode out over her hip. When she looked up his eyes were fixed impressively on the areas of skin that it had just about covered; but his jaw was tensing as he ground his teeth together.

"Just try not to stain it." She murmured brushing past him entirely too close for comfort, the scent of his aftershave doing strange things to her as he all but stopped breathing. She paused, barely space between them as she stared up into his darkening eyes. "You know how he feels about other people spilling my precious blood."His eyes drifted for a brief second to her lips and a part of her desperately wanted him to swallow his fear and kiss her; but she was still in control of her own faculties... just. She turned away from him with a dark look, letting him know just how close to death he was skirting just by talking to her as she made her way into the tent.

The leather straps slid around her ankles, Edgar's fingers lingering a beat too long along her shin as he strapped her down. The brief sensation shooting straight to her core and silently she cursed him and Sylar for forcing her body to react this way. Her eyes scanned the crowd instead, surprised at how many people at turned out, apparently Edgar hadn't been lying, the two of them together really were a draw. The surrealism of the situation wasn't lost on her as she tried not to look too closely at the faces all around, this was so far from the life she thought she'd wanted that it didn't bare comparing. Yet it was oddly... fascinating. She'd never have chosen it; of that she was certain, but that didn't stop her in her quieter moments appreciating its charm; if not freedom, because she was never free, despite Sylar's absenteeism, she was certain she'd only have to step a foot out the gates to have his full attention again. It was almost tempting... almost.

The wheel spun and she felt the smile tug at her lips listening to Samuel play the crowd over the microphone, surprised that he'd agree to promote this, knowing how Sylar felt about her involvement. But then he'd never seemed all that fond of Edgar. It should have worried her, that people seemed to be setting Edgar up to die... herself included, but as the first blade embedded itself neatly in the wood beside her head as she spun ever faster, she found it hard to care about anything.

As she pulled the leotard off and handed it back to Edgar who had long stopped averting his eyes, she realised that Sylar had been a no show. Was she disappointed? Huffing at the idea and her own idiocy and hating that her body was turning her into even more of a freak she slid back into her leather pants, snapped the high heeled boots over the top and shimmied back into the silvery tank top. Claire tossed her hair out and ran her fingers through it in an attempt to get the windblown look out of it, with little success.

"Thank you." Edgar spoke quietly reminding her he was still there.

She glanced over at him, checking her makeup once in the mirror. "You're welcome, just don't come crying to me if Sylar decides he doesn't approve."

Edgar went quiet, nodding. Claire pursed her lips, wondering what exactly it was he wanted from her; she opened her mouth to ask just that when raised voices drew her attention back to the outside of the tent. A woman's voice rose above the rest, frantic and down right angry and oh so horribly familiar.

"Get your hands off me!" The voice filtered through loud and clear. "She is my daughter and I am going in there. Let go!"

Claire felt like her blood and turned to ice again as she stood rooted to the spot, listening to what was unmistakably the soft Texan lilt of her adopted mother's voice. Edgar's tense expression grew of her paralysed fear.

"I'll get rid of her... gently." he promised moving so fast he was just a blur as he left.

"I'm warning you!" her mother's voice rose another octave "CLAIRE!" she screeched, it broke her inaction and she darted out of the tent, watching as her mother was being quite literally dragged away by Edgar and Samuel; as Lydia attempted to calm her down. But it was still creating a scene, people milling around were starting to notice. "Let me go her Uncle warned me she was here that she was in danger!" her mother continued and Claire felt lead settle in her stomach, Peter had called her mother, Peter had willingly sent her mother, her only real family left besides Lyle, here... knowing what Sylar might do. Anger leapt in her chest at the thought.

"Wait!" she called out, running forwards and placing herself in front of the small group as her mother's tear streaked face came into her sight. They released her and in seconds her mother had wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight enough to hurt... if she could feel it.

"Claire. Oh Claire." She sobbed against her hair, pulling away so that she could examine her face. "I didn't believe him, he said you'd been kidnapped by a Carnival... then I saw you up there, like that." Claire was still prone to suffocation and she felt oddly light headed as her mother's surprisingly strong arms crushed her. "I didn't believe the police Claire." She grasped her face in her hands again, the tears flowing fully. "You didn't kill those people, or your father. I was so angry when they accused you... you have no idea. That they would even think you were capable of that. I told them it was that Sylar, that murdering, psychopath. That you'd been kidnapped, but they wouldn't listen." Every bone in Sandra's body seemed to be trembling and as Claire stared she realised her mother looked awful, she'd lost weight, her hair was lank and the expression on her face was as close to despair as she'd ever seen it.

"Mom, mom." She shushed her trying to get a word in, but her mother just collapsed sobbing and clutching at her, as if just holding on to her would make this all better. "It's ok, I'm here, I'm safe." She told her softly, feeling her legs go from under her with her mother's weight as she cradled her in her lap, letting her cling to her. Her hand stroked through her mother's hair, as she turned panicked eyes upwards... Sylar stood quietly at the back of the crowd unnoticed, watching her.


	14. Chapter 14

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 14:**

Slowly Sylar moved through the crowd, his features shifting and twisting as he walked, until he stopped above her looking entirely like someone else, causing her arms to reflexively tighten around the broken form of her mother, Claire wouldn't let him hurt her.

His hand went out. "Come on, let's get you inside and out of the cold." He spoke smoothly, his older face and voice seeming to have a calming effect on her mother that she suspected wasn't entirely natural. He carefully handled her mother, supporting her as Claire refused to release her entirely and eased her towards their trailer. She almost stopped at the thought of her mother inside there... a place she had been so utterly broken and abused; but she had no choice as Sylar continued to guide them up the steps, his eyes finding hers and warning her silently and completely unnecessarily about the consequences of upsetting him.

One herbal tea later her mother seemed calm enough to actually speak. Sylar eased himself into the armchair, still looking completely unrecognizable, just like any other mild mannered middle aged man who happened to live in a trailer at a carnival.

"You shouldn't be here mom." Claire told her quietly, drawing a scandalised look from her mother who spluttered, almost choking on her tea; which she hastily shoved down onto the table.

"I shouldn't be here!" she almost shrieked "That's all you've got to say to me. I have spent months... months Claire!" her voice picked up an octave with her anger, "worrying that you'd been kidnapped by a psychopath. Only to have Peter ring me and tell me that it was a Carnival instead!" she shot a dark look at Sylar's disguised form accusingly. "He seemed to think that someone should have the decency to tell me what had happened to my daughter. Have you any idea what it's like Claire, to worry about someone and to hear nothing..."

"It's not like I could be dead mom." Claire replied bitterly, unable to bite her tongue even when tears welled in her mother's eyes. It wasn't right, she was the one that had been hurt she was the one that needed comfort and support from her mother, not the other way around.

"Claire," Sylar's disguised bland baritone hit her, "Don't speak to your mother like that." Claire opened her mouth and then closed it abruptly, choosing instead to send a withering look his way at his audacity. Her mother watched the exchange closely, clearly looking for clues as to what was going on.

"It's not safe for you here mom." Claire returned her attention to her mother, seeing her eyebrows knit together in worry. "Your right... it was Sylar." She admitted, trying not to look at the man in question and give the game away. "What he made me do..." she trailed off, feeling her voice stick in her throat, she couldn't talk about it, in fact she doubted she'd ever be able to and so far she'd done a damn fine job of repressing the whole incident, until today... seeing her mother was like a trigger for all those god awful memories.

"I couldn't take it mom." She whispered not having to lie in the slightest about that, her mother squeezed her hands supportively. "I just couldn't go back to my life after that, everything familiar was a reminder. It was just too hard." She felt tears sliding down her cheeks and brushed them away angrily; she wondered if Sylar hadn't stole her choice, if that really would have been the case, the lie had come so easily that she suspected it might have been.

"You could have called Claire! I've been out of my mind with worry. Just an answer phone message. Something. Anything to let me know you were alive... safe." Her mother pleaded, but the bite of her own anger was coming through loud and clear.

"And remind Sylar that I still had some family left he hadn't slaughtered?" Claire scoffed, hating that her harsh words and dead eyes made her mother flinch as she tore her hands out of hers.

"Claire." Her mother started softly as she reached for her again.

"You and Lyle are all I've got left mom." Claire pleaded with her, hating the way her voice broke and reminding her that the very monster she was afraid of was inches from them. "I just had to hide, get away from anything that I loved. This Carnival it's full of people like me." She continued the lie, carefully, slowly, making sure she didn't screw it up. "They offered me a place to hide, a place where I'm safe from even Sylar." Her mother's tears threatened again and she so wished it were true, that the comforting lie would somehow include her in it.

"Are you happy here Claire?" her mother pressed, almost pleading with her to lie better, to let her have the comfort of at least that.

"Yes." She replied feeling her blood run cold at the realisation that it wasn't entirely a lie. She wasn't happy with Sylar, or what he'd done to her... she wasn't that crazy. But she had found a place for herself, a place she could be herself at least most of the time and that had to be better than nothing right?

Her mother didn't want to leave her and whilst Claire understood the sentiment, she had to go. It took several hours but she managed to get her mother back to her car, Sylar's disguised form hovering mere inches from her, silently reminding her of his presence. Claire watched as her mom began to drive off, not entirely forgiving, but at least satisfied that her daughter was safe, relatively happy, taken care of... and most of all here of her own free will.

"Mom!" she called her back, darting to the still open window. Her mother's expression grew panicked, "You shouldn't trust Peter." The panic turned to confusion. "He's not a good guy anymore."

"I don't understand, Peter is..."

"Dangerous." Claire finished for her. "He's gone mad. He took Sylar's ability... he took my ability too. He sent you here because he couldn't get in. Just promise me you'll stay away from him, you've got nothing he needs so you should be safe."

Sandra nodded looking deathly pale, forcing Claire to hug her through the car window one last time, god knows when she'd see her mother again. "Take care of Lyle mom." She whispered pressing a kiss to her cheek and withdrawing to stand beside Sylar. They stood together, inches apart, yet miles away, as she watched her mother leave, trapping her completely in her nightmare.

"Thank you." she told him quietly, not having the strength to look up and say it to his face. After all he'd had the chance to hurt her mother and chose to honour their agreement instead. It was more than she'd expected, he'd barely even spoken.

"You're welcome." He replied, sliding smoothly back into his own skin, gritting his teeth against the pain of it. Claire frowned, somehow expecting something else from him, but he merely gazed at the retreating taillights of her mother's car until they vanished.

"Sylar..." she started feeling uneasy, his distance and silence were almost more unnerving than his constant attention. She felt like he was plotting something.

He cut her off grasping her wrist hard enough to snap the bone with a muffled crack, before she could touch him. "You were with Edgar." It was like she'd been doused in cold water, she shivered fractionally as his grip grew intense, snapping another bone.

"It was a dead night. We needed the crowd." She offered as pitiful explanation, knowing that he'd rip the real reasons out of her head anyway.

A smirk pulled at his lips. "Are you missing me Claire?" he barked out a laugh at her that flamed her cheeks and she met his accusing leer head on. That was the second time he'd asked her that now, perhaps she should worry.

"Don't flatter yourself." She sneered, trying to add as much derision to her voice as she could manage. She hadn't missed him... not in the slightest; _just what he can make you feel._

She froze at the unpleasant inner thought, but his hand released her grip and slid along her back, sliding down to round her ass and grip tightly, forcing her eyes to close as he pushed a knee between her legs and pressed up into the part of her that absolutely had missed him, taunting. He knew exactly what she'd thought.

"Painful isn't it..." he rasped, his tongue flicking out into her ear and causing her to shiver. "Wanting something you can't have."

"Fuck you." she snarled, shoving his hands away from her; hating that her skin was crawling for an entirely different reason this time, as she attempted to ignore the throbbing heat between her legs.

"Oh Claire..." he chuckled, leaning close so that his lips almost brushed hers, "Don't you wish you could." Her hateful glare; drew only a smile from him as he took a step away from her.

"Whore." He threw at her and she blanched, feeling like he'd slapped her, the disgust on his face was new, she almost missed the psychotic adoration when faced with that.

"I am what you've made me!" She threw back at him, satisfied to see that her words struck him, at least for a moment before he masked it.

He kept his distance, glaring coolly at her, as if assessing her and for once finding something he didn't like. "Go near Edgar again," he began and she felt her fists ball, "And I will personally have you peel his skin off with his own blades." The image almost floored her as he popped out of existence not waiting to see the damage his words had done. Her hand rose to her mouth and she fought the gag reflex violently, her whole body shaking. She'd known he'd be ruthless, cruel, what he'd made her do to her family had been awful enough, but that... he'd absolutely make her do it. Shakily she made her way back to the trailer, not surprised to find him absent as she fell to the floor, pressing her back against the locked door and burying her head in her knees. Today had been too much, she couldn't cope.

_He wants you so much he can't bear to have you even near another man._

Claire shuddered, trying to ignore the darker side of her consciousness that pressed in once again, threatening her with her own sick thoughts. Looking for a way to worm into her mind whilst it was in chaos like this.

_You'll get Edgar killed._

Claire clamped her hands down around her ears, trying not to listen.

_Sylar loves you._

_He could have killed your mom and he didn't._

_You can't take another month without his touch._

Claire let out a choked sound, falling sideways to curl up in a ball as she fought herself.

_Whore... he knows what you did._

The last thought terrified her. He couldn't know about the frat boy, he couldn't, he'd have called her on it by now; but he'd barely even been around to read her mind about it and she'd tried not to give it another moments thought.

_He was just a substitute anyway, they all are. _

"I don't want Sylar." She hissed into the silent trailer, as if willing it would make it the case.

_Your body does._

With that bleak thought she let her eyes rise to take in the room, catching on the bed. Breath rattled out of her chest as she struggled to draw another one in, her stomach clenching violently.

_I told you he knew... he always knows._

Claire drew her knees up closer to her chest and met the wide glassy eyes of the gift Sylar had oh so carefully left displayed on her pillow; hastily she looked away, trying to pretend it wasn't there. But slowly, morbidly, her eyes returned to the bed as if drawn to the horrific sight; the blood was seeping into the sheets where she slept. The frat boys face was almost unrecognisable, twisted in fear and pain like that, his mouth open and slack, dark eyes wide and terrified as he'd seen his own death. Only Sylar could leave her a severed head in the bed they shared and somehow make it her fault.

Claire's mouth opened and closed, still refusing to form words or so much as a mute scream as she looked at the evidence of what had once been a person; utterly destroyed for coming too close to her. Cocking her head to the side she stared at the dead boy's face, wondering if he'd thought she'd been worth dying for... probably not.

_Apparently worth killing for though._

Claire hugged her knees closer to her chest and buried her head there, drawing slow shallow breaths. Was this what going insane felt like?

_Sylar killed him for you._

'For himself!' She snapped back, pointlessly. He'd done it for himself, to prove a point...

_You didn't need reminding... you knew what would happen to the boy if you so much as looked at him wrong._

'No'. She refused to play this game with her own mind.

_You wanted Sylar to kill him, to remind you how special you are... to him._

The accusation rang loud in her own mind as she glanced sidelong at the grotesque image in her bed one last time, finally feeling the sting of tears. She just wished they were for the boy and not herself.

_Don't you feel special Claire?_

Claire felt the sob rising as she curled up on herself in shame. 'God make me a stone. Don't make me feel this.'

But it was too late for prayers... the devil had seen to that.

* * *

**A/N: sorry for the delay with this chapter, I wasn't happy with the original version and then work took over.**

**Thanks for the reviews and support.**


	15. Chapter 15

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 15**

Eyes watched her as she tossed the bloody bed sheet holding the severed head onto the make-shift bonfire she'd built in the centre of the row of caravans. The head weighed practically nothing as she tossed it in to be consumed by the flames, something that had been so important should have substance.

But there was no chance that she could take another minute with his glazed filmy eyes staring at her accusingly. Sylar hadn't returned for the night... a first. Usually he never missed an opportunity to enforce his 'normal life' on her. But apparently he was too angry to even look at her. She almost laughed, if it hadn't had such a high price she'd of considered hurting him like this again. Instead she'd woken alone curled up on the floor, to the harsh light of a new day, the head still in pride of place on the bed. Typical Sylar, he even expected her to clean up his mess.

"Do you really have to do that out in the open... where everyone can see?" Lydia muttered startling her, she hadn't even heard her approach. Her eyes followed the other woman's gaze to the young faces that were peering out from behind curtains, eyes wide as they watched the flames lick at the stained sheets until it burnt away to reveal the flesh beneath.

"Better they know what evil you all let into their lives now, before they get sucked in by it." Claire watched as her expression darkened; pity it was too late to get Sylar out of all their lives now.

Lydia gave her a shrewd look, "You really could try to be more amenable Claire. There are people here who's lives depend on it."

Claire quirked an eyebrow at her in disgust, she didn't even bother to feign surprise, self preservation was all anyone at the Carnival really seemed interested in. "Why don't you crawl back to your hole with Samuel, or I'll see about making Sylar less amenable to you." The threat actually paled Lydia's face and she couldn't help but roll her eyes, did they really think she'd stand there and listen to them attempt to guilt her into 'good behaviour' for the sake of the poor children that would have to witness her punishment? Idiots, clearly they underestimated her growing apathy.

"Claire." Lydia started, sighing heavily, but not quite able to meet her gaze, reminding her of her very first 'oh so special' night here, when she'd spared her the god awful notion of waking in Sylar's bed, to Sylar. "You know that no one here wants to see you suffer, if we could..."

"Save it!" she snapped at Lydia, physically shoving at her as she made her way past, back to the trailer. "Because I don't believe a word of it." Lydia at least had the good sense not to attempt to stop her. Claire even made it all the way to her doorway before she piped up one more time.

"It won't always be like this Claire." Lydia called out to her, forcing her to stare hard at her face, wondering how she could have ever of been fooled into thinking this woman might help her.

"He's immortal... and so am I. All we have is time." She let her words ring across the ground, reaching every ear that cared to listen as she pulled the trailer door shut behind her, blocking them all out.

Claire's eyes raised and she took in a stifled breath, seeing Sylar sat slouched in the armchair, his thumbs rubbing at his temples fiercely, as if he was in pain.

"I take it I've made my point." He didn't look up, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to soothe his temples... was she really causing him that much of a headache?

"Unequivocally." She replied tersely, still feeling the tacky stickiness of the dried blood beneath her fingernails and across her palms. The least she could do for the boy had been to actually pick up his head herself.

Finally his eyes opened and rooted her to the spot with that penetrating gaze of his creating an odd tingling sensation in her spine. Sylar stood slowly, almost wearily and crossed to her, she didn't take her eyes off him as he crowded her personal space, forcing her to lean backwards or be forced to touch him. His hand raised and to her horror she flinched, electricity danced across his fingers as he grasped her throat, her skin sizzling even as her teeth clenched shut muscles spasming against the force ripping through her. The voltage cut off abruptly and he caught her face in his hands, the smell of his aftershave... and that 'something' else that was entirely Sylar overwhelmed her. The nausea she'd used to rely on at his proximity refused to rise; instead his smell tightened her gut and caused an ache between her legs, every hair practically on end with anticipation.

"You killed him." She pointed out coolly, hardly surprised but feeling the need to remind him.

"You fucked him." He pointed out just as sharply with a shrug. "You killed him."

"Wasn't worth it." Claire wished she could clamp her hand over her mouth, but she couldn't seem to find the censor that had kept her on Sylar's decent side for these past four months of enforced captivity.

His grip tightened around her face, drawing her closer and letting her feel the entirety of him, whilst he angled her head up so that his lips could brush hers.

"What's wrong with you?" she blurted out, not entirely sure why, it wasn't like she cared about whether or not Sylar was suffering... but there was clearly something 'off' with him. He was so out of balance; more so even for him, one minute he was looking at her like she was filth and wouldn't touch her with a barge pole, the next he was crowding her and reminding her of all the things her body craved.

"You've been anywhere but here... I thought I was your big pay off, the prize." She snorted. "If you're bored of me, I'll happily get out of here." Sylar's eyes flashed almost incandescent and she cringed internally, he hated it when she reminded him that her presence her was entirely unwilling... as if either of them could forget.

"Say it." He pressed leaning in until their foreheads touched, his warm breath sending a shiver that ghosted down her spine and tightened her nipples. "Tell me you missed me Claire."

Claire let out a dark chuckle. "You hate it when I lie." Her words dripped sarcasm and he backhanded her roughly across the cheek, not letting her fly back from the force of the blow, whilst her nose reformed and she turned watering eyes on him.

"Where have you been... what have you been doing?" she pressed enjoying the way her words seemed to intensify the frown forming on his face as he tried to ignore his tented pants. Apparently he'd missed her...

"How sweet honey." He murmured, "You're asking about my day."

"What is it with you?" She stalked forwards finger raised accusingly at him. "You've always been so chatty with me, so go on then, talk, for once I actually give a crap."

His large dark eyebrow quirked at her and she ignored the urge to stroke her index finger across it just to see how thick it really was. But she never voluntarily touched him; that was her own little rule ever since her body had declared mutiny on her with regards to Sylar.

"Fair enough." He acknowledged and she blinked watching as he stepped back and disappeared into the trailer further, emerging from the small wardrobe holding what was clearly a little black dress.

"Put this on." Claire rolled her eyes and stepped forwards to take the thing from him, she'd long since learnt that fighting him on his odd fetish of dressing her up like his own personal Barbie just led to problems... mostly bloody and nearly all involving a demonstration about her 'lack' of free will and how he could rip it from her at a moment's notice if he pleased.

"We're going out."

His words rung in her ears momentarily deafening her as she lifted her eyes slowly from the small strip of material in her hands to his face, certain she looked like some sort of moron. "Out?" was all she could manage and even that came out more as a squeak than anything remotely normal.

" I thought we could take a trip, there's an Italian restaurant in New York... Nathan always wanted to take you there." Sylar's voice waivered fractionally and she stared back at him, stunned.

"You still remember him... Nathan I mean, he's still in there?" Talking about her family was simply something they didn't do, he'd even stopped throwing it in her face just to see her wince now. But the mention of Nathan stirred something in her and she had to know.

Sylar glared hard at her, shoving the black strappy, break neck, stiletto's into her hands and retreating to the kitchen space. "Memories, echoes... sometimes."

"Of me?" she pressed her luck one last time, she had spent precious little time with her biological father really, there was still so much she never knew about him. How he'd really felt about her for one.

"He loved you." Sylar commented quietly his back to her as he pulled out his favourite coffee mug, throwing a heavy amount of coffee in before shoving it under the tap. She watched familiar now with his blasé use of powers for even the most menial chores, as the liquid in the cup boiled with his mere touch. But apparently that was all she was getting out of him about her biological father, because he quite deliberately turned his back on her. "Get dressed." He insisted quietly again the conversation clearly over.

Claire's eyes narrowed shrewdly, dropping to his waist and the still straining erection her mere proximity had created. She had power here; at least some at any rate and she'd been learning to use it. Without thinking too much on what it was she was trying to achieve she pulled her top over her head in full sight of him, his eyes stayed fixed on his mug, but... and she was fairly certain she wasn't imagining it, when his grip turned white knuckled grip around the coffee mug. Smiling smugly she shimmied out of her trousers and stood in only a thong; an item she'd always assumed he'd forced her to wear as another form of torture; and faced him down.

"You missed me." She teased, unable to keep the grin from curling her lips when he spun giving her his back and hurling his coffee mug into the sink where it shattered violently.

"Get dressed." He hissed, his shoulders trembling as he gripped onto the edge of the sink.

Claire felt her eye twitch, the deep rumble of his voice turning her insides to liquid... he'd done this to her, made her body crave him and then taken it away. Even she could appreciate the restraint it must have taken on his part; he seemed to like nothing more than to fuck her into oblivion. As plans went, there was quiet genius in it, she was never going to love him... but want him, apparently that was achievable and he'd mind fucked her into feeling it all too soon.

He turned slowly to look at her, looking somewhat dishevelled, annoyed and shamefully attractive. Sylar's dark eyes found hers and she felt the arousal peak as the dark depths of them seemed to bore into her, she didn't want him... _she _didn't. But her body needed release, needed to feel _something_. Sliding to her feet she approached him slowly, afraid he'd sense her thoughts, but he was merely watching her curiously; with far more attention than he had been lately; the barest trace of the disgust he'd threw at her yesterday rose in his eyes and the way his lip curled. _Was she actually jealous that he'd been ignoring her? Hurt that she disgusted him?_

Claire reached him, letting her hands rise to brush his stomach, sliding up his chest until she could run them around the back of his neck. He gripped her hands by the wrists, tearing them away as he stared her down, that earlier disgust back, curling his expression into something truly unpleasant, as he threw her hands away. Nausea warred with arousal, arousal won out barely as she pressed her body into him, swiftly raising her hands she pulled his head down crushing their lips together; she kissed him hard, hating him for making her want this, for making her actually _crave_ him. Not minutes ago she'd been burning the head of a boy he'd killed because of her desires, she had no right to want anything from him. But as her tongue quested for his, pushing past his almost resistant lips she couldn't help herself; desperation was an ugly word, so was _need_... both applied.

Sylar hesitated a moment, his whole body rigid against her, she feared he might actually push her away again...'_whore'_ her mind reminded her_._ But he let out a soft groan as his tongue slid into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her, before pulling her violently against his chest with such intensity that she could hardly draw in a breath. His taunts before, about denying her this, hit her again and she felt her insides twist, he'd known how she'd feel, how her body would react; he'd played her of course; she was just giving him what he wanted... her. But she couldn't stop.

She pulled her mouth away from his, meeting his eyes. "I hate you." she promised him letting it blister her voice even as she grabbed his hair, forcing his mouth onto hers again, hating that he tasted so fresh even after a long night doing god only knows what. His large hands gripped her ass, lifting her and without thought she wrapped her legs around his hips. Sylar's fingers hooked through the strip of material between them and the thong snapped, falling away in pieces as he closed the distance between them, she let out a groan, biting her lip in shame, as his hard heat came into contact with her over sensitised flesh and it felt far too good.

He paused... like always, taking a moment to simply savour the sight of her exposed to him like this; his eyes crawled over her, seeming to leave a trail of fire in their wake. But she was too far gone to let him tease, she _needed _this. She shoved at him and he stumbled backwards, dropping them both to the floor with a heavy grunt. Her hands shook as she tore at his shirt, ripping buttons until his chest was free, her hands slid along the smattering of hair as she tugged at it sharply, causing him to arch and groan beneath her. His tongue pressed between his teeth, she didn't hesitate, pulling him free of his pants, until she held his silken hardness in her hands... vulnerable. And all she could think about was how it would feel inside of her. _Feel_, that was the word she wanted, craved.

Claire straddled him, pressing his arms into the floor, surprised he'd even let her as she shifted her hips, sinking down onto him like it was the most natural thing in the world. A half strangled sob escaped her as he slid inside, filling her and making her feel; "I hate you." she bit out again, not able to take her eyes off his, or the look of ecstasy on his face as she began to move that churned her stomach, but she couldn't stop.

Sylar freed his hands and grasped her breasts as she ground down against him, rolling her hips and trying to find that elusive spot that he always managed with ease. His one hand dropped to her hip, exerting the faintest amount of pressure to angle her and she gasped sharply as his cock hit it perfectly. The smug smirk on his lips wasn't even enough to stop her as she bucked violently, her nails digging into his chest and leaving crescent shaped marks that faded as soon as they appeared. Sylar's thumb brushed her clit and she threw her head back, the pressure becoming so intense that she was losing all sense of rhythm, as she fought to bite down on the sounds she wanted to make. He pinched and circled, keeping her hips meeting his upward thrusts, driving into her and creating small explosions behind her eyes.

"I love you Claire." he rasped; the words, the sensations they hit her like a truck and she let out a cry of pure release as she came harder than she ever had, her whole body trembling as he thrust against her quivering muscles, finding his own release with a groan.

She stilled, still impaled on him, trying to bring her breathing back to normal and avoid looking at the monster beneath her. This wasn't rape... not this time. Bastard.

"I hate you." she managed in response to his declaration as he pulled her down against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"Keep telling yourself that." He chuckled, easing out of her with far too much care for a serial killer as he stroked across the skin on her back, soothing the trembling that refused to fade. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart racing in his chest and enjoying the last fleeting sensations of pleasure as they numbed. He dumped her off to the side of him and slid gracefully to his feet, retrieving the dress she'd left on the floor and throwing it at her.

"Get dressed." He reiterated and she frowned, she'd hoped to shower first. Now that it was over and done with, her body sated, she felt unspeakably filthy. She'd voluntarily fucked him... there was no taking that back.

"No shower." He muttered squatting down next to her and catching her chin with a soft smile, "I want to savour the way you smell when your mine."

Claire grit her teeth and wrenched her head out of his grasp, listening to him laugh quietly at her as he disappeared into the shower himself. Her hands fumbled with the dress... she really had brought this on herself this time and it was threatening to shake her already unsteady grasp on sanity.

"Never again." She whispered, fully aware that he'd hear her and glad of it.

_'Keep telling yourself that.'_


	16. Chapter 16

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 16**

The sensation of intense pressure and nothingness threatened to smother him before they re-materialised into existence in a back alley in central New York. Immediately Claire's hand dropped his and she stalked forward, deftly stepping over the puddles and boxes without so much as breaking her stride in the heels. Sylar smirked, he liked her with a few inches in height more, it meant he didn't have to crane his neck quite so sharply.

He followed, sliding his arm into hers as she paused at the end of the street for him, waiting expectantly for him to lead them. The breeze caught her hair and he noticed the stares of a few business men linger on her... he should have given her a coat he mused; the jealousy was new, at least with this intensity. Sparked by her reckless decision to sate the lust he had so carefully stoked in her sense starved body, with that pathetic excuse for a man. It hadn't been a good death, he'd drawn it out, forcing the begging young man to spill every detail of the encounter, forcing him to comprehend with every agonised moment as his body was carved open, just what he was dying for... _who_ he was dying for.

Sylar pulled Claire closer, sliding his arms around her slight shoulders and burying his head in her hair. She'd almost done enough earlier to erase the disgust he'd felt with her for cheapening herself like she had. Her every touch showing him the memories of that idiot boy and what she'd given him freely, long before she'd offered the same to him. His grip grew tense as he moved them forwards, gliding through the lunch hour rush and nudging people out of his way with his mind so they had a clear path.

The restaurant was busy, but of course they found a seat for him, right at the back, away from the crowds. He ordered for them both, Claire barely even registered the indignation at not being permitted to pick even her own food, but then she was becoming so used to him selecting everything for her that it hardly mattered to her now.

"Nathan liked this place?" Claire asked quietly, staring around, her chin in her hand. He exerted his ability and forced her to sit up straight with her hands in her lap... like the lady she was supposed to be. _If only she could keep her legs crossed.... whore._ Sylar shut his eyes to quite his mental demons, releasing her, content that she'd stay where he put her. He had to let it go, she had after all reacted almost exactly as he'd expected and hoped; a little too much so. That was his failing not hers. But the distance he'd placed between them had cost him concentration, too much, he'd let things with Peter slip, despite using the other man as a distraction.

"Yes he was fond of it." He replied returning to her question, squashing the memories even as they surfaced, certain he would never be rid of the ghost of the man, regretting the off-hand comment he'd made that even mentioned Nathan. Claire nodded mutely, taking in the gentle ambiance and deciding clearly within her own mind that she wasn't going to ask him more about Nathan, or the rest of her family, it only caused her pain.

They spoke little over the food; Claire it seemed was content to be in new surroundings away from the Carnival and the reminder of her life there, with him. Guilt and shame seemed to have subdued her anger, swallowing her sense of self almost whole, at what she'd allowed herself to become... what he'd forced her to become. He reached out and caught her chin, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her softly, trying to banish the feelings of betrayal and disgust she'd unleashed in him over her indiscretion and to reinforce her choice. The taste of the wine on her lips helped, he savoured it, even as she attempted to pull away, refusing to succumb again to her own desires. His grip grew intense and he forced her mouth open, he wouldn't be denied her, not when she'd given so freely earlier.

"I love you." he breathed against her lips, watching as the words drew goose bumps over her arms and created a faint tremble in her hands. He hadn't meant to declare it earlier, not and mean it; he'd expected to use those words as a ploy to further damage her psyche. Except that the moment they had slipped out it had felt right, justified even, he meant it. He meant it now as well.

"Then you're a sick fool." She muttered, finally managing to pull out of his grasp and return to her dessert. His hands fisted and he had to draw on every reserve he had not to fill her full of electricity just to watch her burn for rejecting him like that. He loved her... and god help him it was painful; because she was never going to love him, not as she was. To win her love, he'd have to lose her entirely. It wasn't a step he was willing to take... now; give him fifty years and maybe he'd consider it.

They lapsed into silence and he attempted to shut out her mental abuse of herself; it seemed Claire was at war with herself, her internal desires warring with her internal conscience. Classic.

"You said you'd tell me what you've been doing." She interrupted his eavesdropping, startling him, he hadn't heard the shift in mental focus.

"So I did." He muttered, wiping his mouth on his napkin, at least Nathan's memory hadn't been faulty about this place; the food had been extremely good.

"Well?" she quirked an eyebrow, her impatience shining through, he almost chuckled to hear her frustration, only Claire would snap at him like that after all he'd put her through, all his little demonstrations, he was starting to think that she'd never be obedient to anyone... not even herself.

"Peter of course." He replied smoothly, examining her face for every tick of emotion her dear sweet Uncle's name created. He wasn't disappointed, worry, anger, fear, irritation; they all flashed into existence no single one at the centre.

"He's still killing?" she whispered, leaning forwards to him almost conspiratorially so as to avoid the ears of diners around them... she needn't have bothered, the booth was isolated and the noise of plates, eating and inane chatter covered her well enough.

Sylar nodded, "Of course. If anything he's become somewhat... enthusiastic about it." Her face paled and she looked positively ill.

"You said you'd stop him... you promised you wouldn't let him become a monster." Her voice broke and he almost heard the tears she'd never shed. It irritated him that her accusation stung, he had promised her; it was the one thing she had always admired about him at least, his ability to keep his promises.

"Yes, well Peter's proving to be more troublesome than I'd imagined." He sighed, unconsciously drawing his index fingers to his temple in frustration, "and unfortunately far more creative."

Claire looked down at the table cloth as the waiter removed their plates, torn between wanting to know just what 'creative' meant and absolutely terrified of confirming her worst suspicions.

"I need to show you something." He informed her, handing over a wad of cash to the waiter with a fairly generous tip before extending his hand to her. Hesitantly she took it and allowed him to lead her out of the restaurant and back onto the streets.

"Where?" she asked quietly, not raising her head, happy it seemed to examine her feet and attempt to ignore the situation that way.

"Not far." He admitted, confirming her suspicions that he'd only brought them to eat here so he could show her whatever it was he had planned... clever girl.

Sylar teleported them the moment the crowds thinned, reappearing in an abandoned warehouse. Claire didn't pull away from him this time, clutching onto his hand like her life depended on it as her eyes scanned the area.

"Where are we?"

Sylar sighed. "One of Peter's many dumping sites." He felt the shiver run the entire length of her body. "I haven't cleaned this one up yet." He murmured, watching the pinched expression darken as she finally looked up to his eyes.

"You want me to see what he's done." She reasoned, thinking that just when she'd imagined the worse from him, he came up with ever more creative ways to torment her. Perhaps he should be flattered?

Sylar refrained from comment, dragging her along with him by her hand as she hurried to match his long stride, deeper into the warehouse that had once belonged to the Company. The smell hit them first of course and Claire's feet faltered.

"Don't." She gasped, attempting to stop, her feet digging in as she pulled against him, but curiously attempting to pull him back, as opposed to freeing her hand. "I don't want to see this... please." She pleaded, looking almost ashen as she clasped their linked hands with her other squeezing tightly. It wasn't the bodies she feared, or the smell of death, this was something deeper, the last vestiges of hope; that good would prevail, that it was stronger than evil. To witness finally Peter's descent into madness and darkness, that would shatter what was left of her fragile faith.

Sylar tugged her forward, holding her close as he telekinetically shoved open the metal container doors, letting the stench out and obliterating the last of her innocence.

Claire's hand came to her mouth and she stared wide eyed absorbing every inch of the scene; the bodies carved open, not just their heads. They had been tortured clearly, twisted and broken for purposes she had no clue about.

"Peter." She whispered brokenly stepping fully into the room and letting what he had done permeate every inch of her consciousness, destroying the memories of the good man he'd been, the hero she'd thought he was.

"Why did he do this... this isn't about their powers, some of them don't even have their brains exposed?" she wasn't really asking him, more like wondering aloud, but he felt obliged to answer her as he stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, all traces of her trembling gone.

"Peter's beyond logic now... it was never a good grounding point for him at any rate. He wants to understand everything, the hunger is driving him without any true goal." He glanced once more at the bodies. "These people didn't even have abilities."

Claire drew in a sharp shocked breath. "None of them?" she managed fury creeping into her voice.

"He hasn't been killing people with abilities alone for some time. He wants to understand the human condition... all in an attempt to understand himself and me of course." Sylar explained what he'd come to realise after months of traipsing around cleaning up Peter's mess.

"People will notice... the authorities, the government." She reasoned, quite rightly.

"You haven't seen the news in a while Claire for a reason." He commented dryly and she threw him a dark look. "Peter is well known now as a serial killer... and something else. He's been caught on camera one too many times to cover it up entirely, although the government is trying to keep it under wraps." He sighed wearily, "But where there's a will, there's Youtube."

"He's exposed us?" she asked the severity of the situation beginning to sink in.

"We were already exposed, you have your precious Nathan to thank for that." He snapped, irritated that he had to share the memories and reasoning with the man, when the idea of giving up such a tactical advantage was ridiculous. "But yes the public is aware that he's not quite right. It won't take long for the government to step in and tell them what they know and of course, what they are doing to control people with abilities."

"How could he be so stupid?" Claire asked him plainly, demanding an answer that she assumed he had.

"Because he's Peter." Sylar shrugged, but feeling generous he added, "And of course the hunger does have the tendency of stripping away inhibitions like sanity and conscience."

"You didn't go around getting seen or killing people without abilities." She pointed out, hating that she was starting to think that he'd handled the hunger far better than Peter. He heard the argument forming clearly in her mind _'does this mean Sylar was a better man before he got his ability than Peter... was that why he was able to resist longer? Control himself better?'_

"I was smarter." Sylar pointed out. "And I had a goal, a purpose, something to channel the hunger into and control it. Peter lacks both the will and desire to find a goal and stick to it. He barely even cares about revenging himself on me anymore. It's all about the hunger... the need to know more, to understand it all."

"What kind of stupid ability turns people into murderers?" she snapped, angry at him now for letting it infect Peter, angry that he'd been born at all with such a ridiculously cruel ability.

"It doesn't force us to kill Claire. But we're human and humans are weak, primitive, violent creatures when you strip away all the trappings of civility. We work on primal desires..." he smirked at her, "something I think your starting to understand." She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, preferring to look at the mutilated corpses. "The hunger just strips us down, to what we really are... monsters."

"How very nihilistic of you."

Sylar chuckled, "Honest."

"So this is how you've dealt with Peter?" she waved her hands at the carnage. "By letting him run rampant and exposing us all?" she gave him a withering look. "Colour me unimpressed."

Sylar felt his fists clench, he wasn't about to admit that Peter wasn't after powers anymore because he no longer needed more, he had more than enough... fortunately after every murder he'd foolishly left the bodies behind for him to learn from as well, increasing his own powerbase. That was until Peter had gotten wise and begun to incinerate the bodies with an ability, until they were nothing more useful than ash. Nor was he going to admit that he wasn't entirely sure he could stop Peter anymore, the last few times they'd run into one another it had been a fairly even match. What Peter lacked in intellect and cunning, he made up for in passion and sheer creativity.

"You can't kill him can you?" Claire cut into his thoughts unpleasantly, her shrewd expression telling him that she was learning all too well to read him even without an ability. He refused to comment and she snorted. "Great."

"I do have a plan." Sylar replied quietly.

"I'm sure." Claire muttered.

"It involves you." he continued ignoring her sarcasm.

"Of course it does." She grit out irritated. "When doesn't it?" Sylar grew tired of her attitude and stalked up to her, crushing her back to his front and wrapping his arms around her, just to feel the warmth of her body and know she wasn't as cold as her words could be; or as unaffected by him as she pretended to be.

"There is a theory rattling around in his mind, about you Claire." He informed her, settling his head against her shoulder and kissing her jaw lightly which caused only a minor twitch of reaction from her; but she didn't comment so he continued. "He is hoping that my obsession with you helped me control the hunger; that I sought you out for the companionship of someone that I couldn't destroy... even if I tried."

The idea piqued her interest and she turned her face towards him, her eyebrows knit together in thought. "Did you?"

Sylar smirked. "Yes and no. I fear my intentions were far less noble." He let his hands brush along her torso until he could press her further back rubbing up against his crotch.

Her look of disgust was priceless. "Sorry I asked."

"Peter wants you Claire." He continued, noting how she did shiver now; the idea of what he was suggesting more abhorrent to her than even he was.

"You want to use me as bait." She reasoned, oddly pleased with the idea that he thought highly enough of her to actually let her participate in a fight; something her family had never allowed.

"Yes." He admitted.

"If it gets me away from you for a while that's fine by me!" She hissed, glaring up at him and sorely wishing she wasn't slightly afraid of what Peter would do to her when he wasn't there to protect her... even if his protection was purely self serving.

Sylar sighed spinning her lightly in his arms, before catching her face in his hands and tilting her head to his own. "I won't let him hurt you Claire." He promised her. "I won't let anyone."

"Anyone but you." she countered, but believing his words.

"I love you." he repeated pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her close.

"Don't remind me."


	17. Chapter 17

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 17**

The quiet was the most disturbing thing. That lack of noise despite the chaos her eyes were taking in. Sylar's hand released hers and she almost panicked, reaching for him again, only he was nowhere to be seen. He'd left her... that had been the plan, but she could scarcely believe he'd done it.

Scanning her eyes over the destroyed office, watching as small fires erupted around the once pristine monitors now embedded in walls and used as blunt objects to inflict maximum damage. If there was an argument for not working overtime at the office, this was it. Peter stood in the centre, his fingers ablaze with lightening that was definitely red in colour and not just a trick of the damaged fluorescents in the collapsed ceiling.

"SYLAR!" Peter bellowed, his voice seeming to vibrate, resonating as the force of it impacted a wall, creating a crack that further shook the foundations of the already unstable high rise.

But Sylar didn't answer of course. He was gone, probably not too far... but then again maybe. She'd seen the impact he'd taken, the way Peter had tried to phase him out of existence; Sylar using what she could only assume was Hiro's ability, had re-materialised and proceeded to attempt to incinerate him. Peter had touched him ice spreading over Sylar's entire right side, until he'd quite literally set himself on fire to counter it, telekinetically flinging away the ice shards Peter had been hurling at him throughout .

An explosion had knocked her cold and she'd missed whatever it was that happened next, but she'd awoken to find the office in this smouldering state and herself covered in rubble and office appliances. Claire glanced at her dress, she was mostly intact, so was the dress, the lack of blood on her was almost surprising, she usually emerged from fights like this soaked in the stuff.

But Sylar had been protecting her, of that she was certain, just as she was certain that this particular battle hadn't been exactly what he'd planned. For one they were taken by surprise. Sylar had entered the office block to use a computer, an ability he'd apparently picked up from Micah, she hadn't dared ask if the boy, teenager now, was still alive, but she got the impression that the odds were good, Sylar seemed almost fond of him when he'd mentioned the ability. Apparently tracking down Peter wasn't going to be a problem though, he'd found them.

Claire's eyes flicked up, watching as Peter's eyes, almost black with incandescent rage turned on her. She drew in a sharp breath, he looked insane, truly wholly and completely lost. His hair was a rats nest instead of the easy style she was so used to seeing, there were large dark circles under his eyes that even her ability was apparently unable to shift and his whole body seemed to be shaking.

"Oh god Peter." She managed weakly, staring wide eyed at him, the idea of being bait had never been less appealing... but this was Peter. The thought that Sylar had never looked so wild and out of control when he was afflicted with the hunger occurred and she almost physically shoved it away. This was Sylar's fault, it was his ability.

'_Sylar didn't make the boy wonder keep it.'_

Claire closed her eyes banishing the inner voice that threatened to shake loose the fickle grasp she had on her sanity. Opening her eyes she focused on his heavy black boots that stopped inches from her, his breathing heavy in the quiet air.

"Claire." He rasped... even his voice sounded wrong, as scarred as his face now; that had been Sylar's fault as well. He squatted down in front of her and roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her face onto his; he turned her face side to side, as if expecting damage. His eyes lingered on her forehead and she felt her blood chill, the last time she'd been with Peter he'd carved her head open and groped her brain... then left her for dead.

"You lied to your mother." His words stung her and reminded her again that it had been Peter who had put her mother in danger in the first place by sending her into the carnival after her.

Swiping his hand away she glared coldly at him. "Stay the hell away from my mother Peter, she has nothing to do with this, let the poor woman live some semblance of a normal life."

His lip twisted down and he dropped her eyes, Claire felt her breath catch, "Peter tell me you didn't hurt my mother." He didn't answer and when he raised his head his dark eyes were wide and expressive. "No...." she managed, feeling as though she'd been kicked in the gut; instantly she scanned the area, hoping that somehow, for some reason Sylar would reappear and tell her it wasn't true, that he'd saved her mother from Peter.

Peter cocked his head as if examining her when the tears refused to fall, she wanted to cry, felt like her whole body needed to scream and rail in fury and utter despair... but she couldn't, a creeping numbness spread over her instead, deadening everything. Shock she imagined, it felt similar to that day when Sylar had stolen her life and her families. Only now it was Peter that had taken the last of it.

"I wanted to understand her... you... Noah...Lyle." Peter murmured, but there didn't seem to be a hint of apology in his tone, or guilt, merely fact.

Lyle's name stung her eyes as she stared horrified at him, "My brother?" she managed weakly, feeling like it was truly the end of the world... everything she'd suffered through with Sylar, put up with, all for the threat of a family that were already dead. All this to save Peter, her mother and Lyle... and they were gone. Had Sylar known? Had he continued to let her believe they were alive to keep her docile? Or had he done it to spare her the horror of their deaths and the reality of what Peter had become?

'_Probably all three.'_ She quietly agreed with herself, ignoring Peter as he attempted to pull her to her feet, she barely felt connected to the world, or her body. Why bother with anything now?

"I like the dress." Peter murmured the off-beat comment drawing her disbelieving gaze to his face as he let his eyes trail over her, lingering on the ridiculously high heels with obvious appreciation. She wanted to tear his eyes out for even daring to look at her, to crush his larynx for uttering a single word that wasn't a grovelling apology to her for what he had taken... the family he'd murdered. But she looked hastily away, Peter had bested Sylar, or at least she thought he had there was no way to be entirely sure with him, this could still be his plan; in fairness to it, she had truly never been quite so amenable to her Uncle's death as she was right now.

"Sylar's choice." She muttered trying to force Peter's gaze away from her body. "Like everything." The mention of Sylar's name seemed to perk him up and he snapped his attention back around the room, just as she'd hoped.

"I shifted this room and us out of phase... but I didn't think it'd take him this long to get through." Peter seemed to tense, waiting as if expecting Sylar to appear out of nowhere. Claire's eyes shot to the window; it was white outside, no colour, no street lights or high rises, just white.

"Looks like you weren't worth coming in after. I guess he's done with you." Peter's voice was hard as he gripped her wrist dragging her forwards as he examined the area once more.

"No I was just bait." She muttered, feeling no compulsion to help either of them now that what was left of her family was gone. All she wanted to do was crawl into a corner, curl up into a ball and wait for eternity to end her.

"Hmm." Peter responded thoughtfully. "Apparently it didn't go to plan." The smirk on his face was pure Sylar and it sickened her to see it there. "Too bad, I guess that means I get to keep you now."

Claire snorted. "You say that like it's a good thing."

Peter frowned. "I want you to help me." He stated clearly as if it should have been obvious to her; it was just a pity she wasn't even remotely interested now. "But not here. We need to leave, Sylar will be back, the bastards persistent." Peter continued on apparently oblivious to the fact that she was finding it hard to resist the urge to physically choke him into silence... he'd killed her mother and brother. Claire closed her eyes as the world flashed, then seemed to rush past with incredible speed, clearly he'd found another speedster to carve open and 'learn' from... although she hadn't actually seen Edgar since that night her mother had returned.

"Home sweet home." Peter informed her and released her so roughly that she actually toppled over, sitting on her knees she took in the surroundings; it was a loft of some sort; it looked like the home of a lunatic, cartons of half eaten food were strewn everywhere, the lights flickered in the dimness, there was a single bed in the centre of the room and nothing else. Papers and documents were piled in places with pictures attached and left screwed up into balls in others. The worst was every inch of wall, ceiling and floor space was taken up with scrawled writing. The same phrase repeated over and over... _'Knowledge is power.'_

"Great." She muttered wearily, not even bothering to drag herself up to stand; apathy was like a drug, sweeping over her system and sedating it in its soothing lethargic nature.

"I've missed you Claire." Peter's voice inches from her should have startled her, his large brown once soulful eyes seemed to rake over her face, lingering on her lips.

"I missed you too." She admitted despite herself, watching as her words sent the spark of a smile to pull up the corners of his mouth, she even imagined there was a flicker of sanity in his eyes... but that's all it was likely to be, her imagination. "I just wish I hadn't found you." she added and his expression immediately darkened; his lips twisting into a grimace.

"Sylar didn't explain it to you properly. What I'm doing Claire." He grasped her arms harshly and shook her, as if trying to shake the understanding into her unresponsive form. "He was just trying to turn you against me. He knows how much you could help me... how I could be if you're with me." His fingers brushed her face and she closed her eyes, realising he was brushing away the tears she hadn't even realised were falling. Her memory chose then to remind her of the last time four years ago, when he'd done the same thing, before they'd faced down Sylar for the first time.

_Sylar hadn't been the villain then either... it was Peter that would have destroyed New York._

She banished the memory and the thought; trying not to let it corrupt her memories of Peter for fear that she might violently attack him. Opening her eyes she stared hard at him, beginning to understand the monster that was lurking behind his once passive features. Maybe that was her true gift, her ability to see the monster, to understand it, to draw it out... just like Peter had told her that day he gave in to his own monsters.

"Let me go Peter." She told him firmly, watching as shock flittered across his face before the anger washed it away.

"No." He snarled, his lip curling with distaste. "I told you I need you. Just like Sylar did."

"I can't help you Peter." Claire snapped at him, "No one can. Just look at yourself, look at where you are, what you've done. You're a monster." Her voice broke and she looked away in time that she didn't have to watch his face when he struck her. The sound of bone splintering in her cheek only confirmed her words. Maybe she should have pitied him, but the emotion wouldn't come, Peter had made his choice, he chose to keep Sylar's ability, even knowing what it would do to him, all because he wanted to be 'special' again. To play the fucking hero. She hated him for that.

"So you'd help Sylar... but not me?" He grasped her face, forcing her eye line to his. "We're family Claire."

"No, we're not Peter." She snarled at him, the fury that had been buried by shock and despair welled in her now, this bastard had killed her family, all her suffering had been for nothing! "You are nothing to me now. Just another killer on a power trip. A murderer!" His grip grew intense and his fingers lit up, red lightening coursed through her body, searing her and shutting off further thought as she fell limp into his arms.

"Don't say that Claire." His voice was harsh as he crushed her against his chest in a mockery of the hugs she'd used to crave off him. His fingers brushed through her hair as she attempted to regain her breath... that hadn't been like Sylar's lightening, she felt odd, disconnected, like she wasn't able to feel anything at all, like her body was more of a thing and not something she could use, she felt... caged by it.

"Let me go." She insisted, struggling to gain control of her lips so that the words came out slurred; her eyes widened in panic as she watched an additional finger begin to sprout from the hand she had clutched around his shoulder.

"It's the ability I used." Peter told her calmly, as if her body wasn't turning into even more of a freak show before her very eyes. "It will wear off in a few minutes. Power booster." He muttered and she clamped down on her words... she hated her ability; boosting it only confirmed her suspicions that it was truly against her having a normal life. Was this what her ability would become? Her body in rebellion against her, regenerating on a whim? The loss of connection to it almost total... was she going to be trapped forever in a cage of flesh and bone that might as well have been stone?

'_Isn't that what you wanted... not to feel anything?'_

' _God make me a stone?'_

'_Wish granted.'_

Claire tried to close her eyes to silence her own mind, but her body didn't respond she couldn't even feel Peter as his hands trailed across her body, his lips pressing against hers.

"I hate you." she forced the words out against his lips as he withdrew, looking her over quietly.

"You'll forgive me Claire. You love me." Peter informed her calmly, clearly convinced in his own deluded insane mind that nothing had changed between them.

She longed to scream at him, to claw at his face and give him yet another scar to match Sylar's; but her hands fell limp to her side just as another equally useless one grew out of her shoulder.

"Don't worry Claire, I'll take care of you." Peter whispered, stroking the additional appendages in fascination. "And you'll help me think clearly." He smiled softly at her, "It's already quieter, just having you here, holding you." he laughed lightly, "This is going to work Claire. We'll be happy again and Sylar won't be able to hurt either of us ever again."

Claire watched helplessly as he lifted her into his arms, the extra digits on her right hand turning an unhealthy black and dropping off, the ability fading from her just as he promised. But he drew ever closer to the bed, his intentions clear in every line of non-existent tension on his face, the eerie calm to his features only making her stomach turn unpleasantly. Sense and feeling began to return and she forced herself to wait... wait for the opportune moment to attack him.

He slid onto the bed with her, pressing her beneath him into the mattress.

"We're family." She hissed at him as his hands slid around her waist, pressing her hips against his straining erection, only the clothes protecting her from a man she'd once thought of as her hero.

He smiled almost serenely at her, stroking her hair and nodding in agreement. "Yes Claire... and family shares everything."

The 'don't' died on her lips as she watched him tear apart her dress like it was tissue paper, merely the gift wrapping over his new present. 'Not again!' she promised herself, launching at him, intent on taking out all her frustration and pent up rage at the injustice of her life. His hand snapped out and she slammed back into the mattress.

"Shush now Claire." He snapped at her like she was a naughty child, his twisted features rearranging into the former serene expression as he stroked down her immobilized form. "You want this." he reminded her, "You always have." He lay out flat over her, crushing her further into his bed. "Stop resisting it." He truly sounded like he couldn't even fathom the reasons she was fighting him at all.

She lay still letting his hands paw at her, his impatience shining through as he tugged at his own trousers, giving her breasts bruising but at least fleeting gropes. "Get off me!" she screeched, clawing at his face again the moment she felt his hold loosen on her with the distraction her exposed body seemed to be. The scratch marks faded instantly, his eye regaining its sight as he glared down at her, opening his hands again and pinning her firm to the bed with his ability.

"You will help me Claire." He snarled, "You spread your legs willingly for that bastard... you're going to do the same for me, you're going to make this fucking obsession go away. You'll be my obsession; just like you were his... don't you see Claire, how perfect it could be. I just need something to focus on, something to ground me." He murmured, latching his lips onto her neck and biting roughly into the flesh until he drew blood.

"You love me." He swore as he tore into her body with abandon as she lay still and stiff beneath him, completely immobilised; his dick slammed into her without preparation and she felt every inch of him, he was larger than Sylar, longer, but not wider, she didn't feel that same sensation of fullness. Just violation and only her rage managed to quell the nausea at the whole thing. Claire screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to see Peter's face as he attacked her like this, waiting for that moment when shame would bloom inside of her. Her eyes snapped open as his thrusts grew violent... the sensations were there, but nowhere near as intense as Sylar could force from her. Peter was too long, that or he simply didn't care that the spot inside of her was nowhere near his questing member as he grit his teeth, his skin slapping violently against her as he tried to lose himself in her body. His fingers brushed her half heartedly before giving up entirely as his rhythm grew uneven and she fought back her urge to smile, she wasn't going to orgasm from this rape, not even close... which meant no shame, only loathing. His every thrust brushed her cervix and set her teeth on edge, he spilled inside of her after far too long his rutting blessedly ceasing as she lay beneath him, still paralysed. His weight crushed her, until she could barely draw in breath, but he didn't even seem to notice, his arms wrapping around her.

"So amazing Claire." He whispered against her hair. "I'm going to take care of you, I promise." He added gently, as if he was bestowing a great gift upon her.

Claire lay still, listening to the sounds of his breathing as his heart beat calmed; his grip never loosened and his weight never shifted, so that even when his power stopped immobilizing her, his body kept her in place.

'_Feels like that frat boy doesn't it. Cheap, senseless, unfulfilling.' _

Claire cringed, she hated her inner spectator, usually because it drew to her attention to those half formed sub-conscious thoughts she wouldn't otherwise acknowledge.

'Worse.' She replied to it internally as Peter slept on undisturbed, softening inside of her and filling her with disgust. 'This was my hero.' Her mind seemed to smirk back at her wearing Sylar's face.

'_Admit it you'd rather belong to Sylar than Peter.'_

'Fuck you!' she hissed, curling her fists and feeling her will steel in revulsion of what she was becoming, what she'd almost let them do to her.

'I don't belong to anyone. I'll show them both if it's the last thing I do.'


	18. Chapter 18

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 18**

The moment seared into his memory as he disintegrated the last of the agents, his focus shifting momentarily to his surroundings as he watched his Carnival family picking themselves up. No casualties; was it disappointment he felt as he noted Samuel and Edgar supporting one another, both looking a little bloody but otherwise intact?

It was the second attack in 3 months. It was instinct really Sylar told himself, as he stepped through the piles of ash that were the only evidence that anything had happened at all. The need to protect your home. Of course he was under no illusions as to who had tipped them off about the nature of this Carnival, and it's people.

Thoughts of Peter clouded his mind and instantly darkened his mood. This place wasn't a home, not anymore... not without Claire. Three months and nothing, not a whisper of them. He'd used everything he had, every ability; but Peter had simply vanished taking Claire with him. Sylar stared down at the floor, almost struggling to breathe his anger was so intense. It had been his own fault, his own stupid arrogance, his belief that he was so much better than Peter; but then he was burdened with Nathan's memories, reinforcing the belief that Peter was no threat, that big brother complex. But the young Petrelli had surprised him yet again, stealing her from beneath him before he'd been able to strike the killing blow. Phase shifting. It wasn't an ability he'd thought to use too often, or that would be so crippling, he of course had gone out the very next day and started scouring the country and the whole damn planet until he of course had a matching ability. But it didn't help him find wherever the hell it was Peter had hidden Claire and himself away.

Without thinking he extended his hand and tugged Luke back onto his feet, sweeping past the young man before he could utter a word of thanks, lost in his own world.

The carnies of course had tried to console him, but it didn't help that they were all secretly glad that Claire had escaped him. That was until his black mood had failed to lift and been redirected onto them. By the end of the first month he'd worked them all up into such a frenzy that a strand of Claire's blond hair would only have to materialise to have them chasing her down and dragging her back to him. But so far despite his and their considerable efforts... nothing.

Stalking to the trailer he stood staring at the cold metal container, feeling his chest constrict and his eyes burning. How had he let this happen? He loved her, needed her, he'd let himself succumb to feeling anything for her and now he was suffering for it; just like he'd always feared. Slamming the door shut behind him he stalked to the centre of the trailer, dropping to his knees and digging his hands into the rug on the floor, inhaling deeply he pulled out the memories of her. Of their last time together, of the moment she'd succumbed to him, however briefly and manipulated it had been, for that one shining point in his entire miserable life, he'd felt wanted, needed.

It was pathetic, he knew that as he fell onto his back, staring aimlessly at the metal roof, yet night after night he retreated to this moment, to this memory. Wrapping himself in sheets that still clung to the last traces of her scent; tormenting himself with her absence.

When it had first happened his first instinct had been to simply go after them, find the ability and undo the phase shift that Peter had forced. But he'd not been able to find the exact frequency they'd shifted to, so when that had failed to unveil him, Sylar had resorted to dire means, turning back time. He couldn't be sure what it was about Hiro's ability that was so abhorrent to him, but just as he understood that it was his only chance of preventing the disastrous meeting that had cost him Claire, he also knew that it was inherently wrong. A perversion of nature and the laws of physics, his unique grasp on things let him see with absolute clarity the implications of every false step, of every move. Revealing to him the fragile nature of time and reality itself; still he'd dared to tempt fate and travelled back to that moment before entering the office block.

But nature was a bitch, it's rules not as easily overcome as he'd hoped. Claire had been out of phase... every attempt he'd made, no matter how far back he went. Even back to that fateful night at homecoming when she'd sealed both their fates by standing up to him, by surviving when she ought to have died. His whole body had trembled with rage, watching, unable to interfere, she was frozen, a fixed point to him, utterly unmovable, just like anyone that interacted with her. Time and space inherently linked, to move her out of phase in one time, had moved her out of phase in all times. She was completely untouchable. Peter had found away to hide her from him utterly and he despised the man for it. All hesitation about ending Peter's life had ended with this betrayal, this _defeat_, because that was what it was. Peter had won that battle, but he refused to let him win the war. He wouldn't be able to hide her or himself forever, they'd have to surface eventually, if they weren't already and he'd be there; ready to end Pete's miserable existence and claim what was his.

Dragging the bedding to the floor with a flick of his wrist, he buried his head in her pillow, forcing the memories of her, letting her emotions and feelings flood over him, trapped forever in the fabric. It was the only thing that kept his anger in check, kept him focussed.

A fist pounded against the metal door startling him upright as he hastily dropped the evidence of his further spiral into depression.

"Sylar!" Luke's voice barked through the metal. "You need to get out here now!" he continued pounding, apparently still not having developed a sense of self preservation.

Sylar ripped open the door, his eyes finding their target as his fingers curled around the teenager's throat, lifting him clean off the ground and forcing his eyes to bulge out of his head in surprise and fear. Luke spluttered, clawing at his hands.

_"CLAIRE!"_ Luke's mind screamed at him now that his mouth was unable to form actual sounds. "_Jesus he's going to kill me. Claire's here... Claire's here. Just got to tell him and he'll stop."_

Sylar dropped his grip like Luke's skin had burned him, throwing the boy away uncaring where he fell as his eyes scanned the area. The chaos of the attack was still fresh, some trailers riddled with bullet holes and small fires that were smouldering away quietly not yet dealt with. But there was a hush falling over the excitement, tension building.

He hopped down from the trailer, his heart pounding as he forced his legs to move inhumanely fast, until he was alongside the small group gathered around the entrance of the Carnival.

"It's Claire, I'm certain." Lydia's voice cut through the rest as he squinted into the night and the distance, watching as a person slowly, carefully made their way through the darkness.

Sylar needed nothing else, but his feet froze, his mind kicking in before he could give his own weakness away. He rocked on his feet, but gave no other indication that he was fighting the desire to run out there and wrap his arms around her, drag her back home.

'_She's coming back, coming home... willingly returning.'_ Sylar didn't dare believe his own hope, not until he saw her face, saw her mind, until he was certain that was the case, his heart wouldn't take the disappointment, not if this was one of Peter's ploy's; a distraction.

Immediately the thought sent his eyes and mind scanning over the area... nothing seemed out of place. Slowly his eyes returned to the girl that had sent his whole world into turmoil, watching as she stepped into the lights of the Carnival, empty now besides its unique residents. He heard his breath catch as she continued walking calmly towards them all, her head held high, the slight breeze catching her hair. It was a crime that she could always look so perfect, would always appear the ever perky, golden seventeen year old. Narrowing his eyes he met her gaze and felt himself flinch, they were hard, cold emeralds blazing in her set features, only her eyes would ever be able to age her he decided.

She stopped inches from him, silently staring back at him, her mind was so busy he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. Relief came through loud and clear so he decided to ignore the rest and sort it out later. Peter's image dominated her thoughts, she was lost in grief and pain, her memories lingering on his eyes, on the monster that shone through them.

"He's dead." She told him quietly, her eyes not even flickering for an instant to the small group around them, focused solely on him.

"You killed him?" Sylar asked incredulously; wishing as her jaw tensed and her face twisted in loathing that he'd not sounded quite so surprised.

"Yes." She snapped, almost defensively; but he still couldn't sort through the mess in her mind to figure out exactly how she felt about her _dear Uncle's_ passing.

"And you decided to come back here?" Samuel cut in, asking the question he'd longed to but would never have voiced aloud; it would have revealed himself far too much.

Claire's eyes didn't move from his face as she answered Samuel. "It seemed the smart thing to do." Her voice dripped sarcasm, "After all, it was only a matter of time before I was found without Peter's abilities."

Sylar felt her words hit him like a blow to the gut that momentarily robbed him of breath. She'd returned so that she could walk in as opposed to being dragged. _Did that still count? _Her eyebrow quirked at him, amusement seeming to dance around the edges of her mouth, belying her cold eyes, he felt like she was mocking him somehow.

The dark thought that maybe this was Peter masquerading as her sparked him into action, he lunged forwards, wrapping his hand around her throat and squeezing whilst he let electricity seep into her very bones, if Peter was hiding within then he would feel it. Claire's face remained expressionless apart from that slight quirk at the corner of her mouth... taunting him.

"Don't you trust me?" she smirked at him the moment he dropped her back to her feet, withdrawing his ability. He merely glared back at her, torn between wanting to wrap her in his arms and truly bury himself in her scent and the feel of her again, and strangling her for good.

He gave in to the stronger desire and grasped her face, sliding his fingers into her hair and crushing his lips against hers, needing to feel her, taste her to be sure she was really there. Her lips moulded against his, kissing him back with more intensity than she had ever shown him, he groaned into her open mouth as her tongue danced along his, drawing him deeper. His arms dropped, encircling her slight form, crushing her against his chest as he tried to devour her.

She pulled back fractionally, her hand on his chest as she stared up at him with those cold eyes, fractionally more alight now through her lashes. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private." Instantly his eyes flickered to the small group that made no attempt to move on, watching them both avidly. He swept her into his arms, wary still of her intentions, her thoughts still a knot that he couldn't work through. In moments they were back inside the trailer they'd shared, her eyes caught the sheets, their position on the floor and he saw the memory of them flash behind her eyes as she laughed lightly.

"Feeling sentimental?" she smirked at him, clearly aware of his attempts not to squirm in embarrassment, his obsession with her still evident between them. It steeled his resolve to claim her again, to regain the higher ground and remind her that just because he needed her, it didn't mean she could do as she pleased. He grabbed her arm, dragging her back against his chest and enfolding her in his arms as he buried his head finally in her hair, nuzzling at her neck.

"Did you miss me?" she cooed, most definitely mocking now and he growled, his cursed ability showing him flashes of her time with Peter that clung to her skin like stains. Without hesitation he pushed them both towards the shower, intending to scrub the skin away so that the memories fell away with it. She didn't protest as he pushed her back against the wall of the shower, tugging at her clothing, the simple jeans and t-shirt he would never have chosen for her ripping at his insistence. His hands were shaking he realised as he tore at her bra, the sight of her breasts almost stealing his breath as she smirked up at him, more aware than ever of just what her body did to him. Her thumbs hooked under the edges of her cotton pants and she eyed him through hooded emeralds as she tugged them away herself.

He felt lust spark roaring into life as he tore himself free of his own clothes, dropping them in a sodden pile in the shower tray as he reached for her, his own body reminding him just why he'd missed her quite so intensely. Light burst from his hands as he held them over her, tracing the microwave energy along her skin, watching in fascination as it blistered and peeled, falling away in flecks and taking the memories that clung to it with them.

She laughed lightly, not taking her eyes off his face, "Bad memories?" she asked knowing full well how he'd struggled to see her with that frat boy. But there was a hint of something more in her voice; he watched it dance behind her eyes... the edge of sanity.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, clutching her to him. "I broke my promise... and I'm sorry." He insisted, feeling her relax into his embrace, surprised that she would. The image of her mother flashed behind her eyes, her brother, tombstones. He held her closer, he'd found out about their death's too late, after she was gone, a cowardly part of him had almost been pleased that he hadn't had to see her grief over their deaths.

"Shhh." She insisted and he realised that he was shaking violently, as he slipped to his knees, clutching her to him, her fingers slipping into his hair and soothing him. "I'm here." she promised, "I'm safe." She continued as if he was a frightened child; his pride bristled but his heart only forced him to encircle her closer.

"Make me feel." She breathed against his ear, the sensations coursing through him as her sensually whispered words drew goose bumps across his flesh. He reacted instantly, pushing her back with too much force for anyone but Claire, until she hit the back wall again, the shower scalding as it beat down over them, he lowered himself more completely on his knees and grasped her hips.

"Open your legs." He all but growled at her, she smiled quietly at him her eyes glinting again, dancing on a precipice... but he was too distracted to focus on it as he lowered his mouth to her sex. The moment his tongue touched her delicate skin he felt like finally he was home again, the taste of her exploded behind his eyes and he pulled her closer, his grip tightening as her legs wobbled, only the wall keeping her upright as he stroked, tasting every inch of her he could reach. He'd barely even drawn a finger along her slit circling her clit before she came violently, screaming in release and clutching at his hair with enough intensity to tear some of it clean out. He bit down against the pain and slid to his feet, roughly taking her legs and shoving them around his hips, where she dutifully locked them in place, her hands going around his neck.

"I missed you." he told her quietly his eyes boring into hers their lips inches from one another as with one fluid stroke he buried himself in her tight wet heat, groaning deeply at the exquisite feel of her like this. He kept her gaze as he thrust into her with abandon, making sure to angle himself just so, so that her inner muscles were contracting around him sharply soon enough, her breasts heaving against his chest as she drew in shaky breaths. He closed his eyes then, content that she was satisfied and let the rhythm collapse into his own need.

"I missed you too." Her voice whispered as her lips brushed his ear, but he was too focussed on his goal to concentrate on the cool feel of metal that pressed against his skin; the sudden sting of a needle. He came hard inside of her at the sensation, even as his legs began to shake violently, dropping them both to the floor as he trembled, his whole body seemingly on fire as his limbs lost control and his eyes threatened to close.

Claire's face loomed above his, that flicker of lost sanity in her crystal green eyes earlier had become a raging torrent and he stared up, seeing the instrument of his own death shining out at him.

"Peter didn't see it either." She told him softly, her fingers brushing through his hair before dropping to his chest and tracing idle patterns there, as his body started to feel cold. "Not until it was too late."

He tried to speak but his tongue was sluggish, he grasped for his abilities, finding a concrete wall between him and them.

"Don't fight it Sylar." She insisted straddling his waist, the evidence of their previous exertions still glistening between her legs and reminding him of his own weakness. He recognised the symptoms now, he had felt them several times before during his incarceration in Level 5. He wasn't dying, but he almost wished he was, robbed of all that made him special, helpless... Claire's eyes danced as she practically beamed down at him, looking radiant in her revenge.

"I did miss you Sylar." The smile became a smirk. "No one can touch me quite like you can." She admitted. "That's why I might put you back together again when I'm finished." His eyes widened as he watched her raise her finger to his forehead ominously.

"Don't worry... it only hurts for a moment." Her finger moved and he bucked his drug addled body, screaming in agony as skin and bone parted, blood spilling down across his face and blinding him; what had Peter done to her... how had he done it? Her laughter rung in his ears and he tried to avoid the sudden hungry clarity of her mindset behind her eyes, horror fuelling him as he grasped onto consciousness even as the edges of his vision began to dim, just in time for him to see her raise his skull cap and place it carefully down beside him. Pain tore at him, and the blackness beckoned; dragging him down as the last words he heard whispered into his ear terrified him, making him doubt he'd ever wake again.

"_Show me how you work Sylar."_

* * *

_A/N: sorry for the reupload, small edit was required I got carried away trying to get across what I wanted that the original last sentence conveniently forgot that Sylar with his abilities knocked out from the drug wouldn't be able to hear Claire's thoughts. Fixed that now.  
_


	19. Chapter 19

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 19**

_[18 hours ago]_

Claire sat watching Peter as he held a metal vial in his hand, he kept curling a fist in his hair, pacing backwards and forwards. He'd vanished earlier, leaving her alone as he was prone to doing, the only problem was there was nowhere to go, this phased existence was worse than the Carnival by some degree. There was nowhere to run, outside was just white, like a canvas that hadn't been filled in and she couldn't even get food, her entire life was entirely dependent on Peter brining things into their phase for her. She actually worried that one day he'd phase back into the real world and something would happen to him, trapping her here forever.

Except this time he had come back, babbling something about the Company archives and how not all of it had been destroyed.

"I need to trust you Claire." He spun, finally addressing her for the first time since he'd showed up here rambling like the madman he'd become. "I can trust you can't I?" he stalked forwards clutching her face with one hand and holding the vile with the other.

Claire's eyes widened, hardly daring to believe that Peter would ask her that question. The smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she buried it, she'd waited for her moment, played the docile little prisoner for him, the happy little indestructible girl who was just so pleased to be away from Sylar that she didn't care if her own Uncle had taken her hostage and raped her.

"Of course Peter." She whispered, "You know you can. We're in this together, to stop Sylar." She reminded him needlessly, "We're family remember, you can trust family." She raised her hand to his cheek brushing it softly, wishing her words had even a shred of truth in them. His eyes seemed to dim slightly at her touch, closing to flutter shut briefly, even his ever present tremor seemed to still; then he opened his eyes and the all consuming madness in them swallowed any vestiges of the man she'd known. It was too easy to play into his fantasies, to let him believe whatever he wanted.

"This is a vial of the drug they used to suppress abilities." He held it out to her in his shaking hand, his muscles twitching as if he might yank it back out of her reach at any moment. Claire took the initiative grasping it firmly as her fingers wrapped around his.

"Then we should be careful with it." She warned gently, as he let it slide out of his hand and into hers with a small sigh that she could only assume was relief.

"This will work on Sylar?" She asked, staring at the liquid in the vial with faint disbelief that something so insignificant looking, could be so potent. Peter was watching her intently when she raised her head back to him and his lips curved upwards in a feral grin.

"Yes. This one was designed with him in mind, mom kept a stock of it on ice after the Company collapsed... just in case Nathan relapsed." His features twisted and a shudder took over his body at the memory of his brother, of her father. She never voluntarily mentioned Nathan's name around him, not if she could help it, she even deliberately avoided thinking about it, he was even touchier than Sylar had been and somehow with Peter it felt like a betrayal, like all that their family had died for was for nothing now.

"How do we get close enough to use it?"she quirked an eyebrow at him, his plans were never all that well thought through and now with his mind addled they were even less reliable.

He gave her a knowing look that turned her stomach; he often looked at her like that when she calmly and quietly let him rape her; as if he knew what she was just bidding time. "Think about it Claire, who in this whole world does Sylar lower his guard around... he sleeps next to you for God's sakes."

Claire suppressed the need to roll her eyes, deciding not to enlighten Peter that Sylar was only confident enough to sleep beside her because she rarely went to sleep under her own control and if she did he made damn sure to remind her she had no clue where his 'off' switch was now and that it would take more time than she would have to find it before he woke up and punished her thoroughly.

"So you want to send me back to Sylar with this vial... and then what?" she sighed, this was clearly yet another one of his mindless plans for vengeance, driven by passion and not much else.

"Don't be so negative Claire." He snapped; Claire rolled her eyes, she'd manage to restrain most of her sarcasm in that last comment, choosing to humour him instead. "You think I haven't already considered the options?" he continued starting to pace again, "The variables," he stalked up so that she had no choice but to look at his scarred face, choosing to focus on a point on his cheek instead of his eyes. "Sylar isn't stupid, nor will he be easy to trick, he can read your mind the moment you're within feet of him... if not miles. Even if you could somehow get close enough, you'd never overpower him." Peter stepped away from her now that he had her attention, allowing her to draw in a breath of relief at not being so close to him. He turned his back on her and crossed his arms, head bowed.

"Distraction maybe." Peter murmured, but Claire was already way ahead of him, there was after all one moment when Sylar was utterly vulnerable, when he quite literally fell apart in her hands. Not that she intended to share that with Peter, but she filed the information away for later. There was no way she was going to let Peter get anywhere near Sylar's corpse, if she even managed to kill him, she didn't want him getting his hands on all of Sylar's abilities as well.

"I have an ability Claire..." Peter started still not facing her, but she watched as his shoulders bunched together in tension and she frowned, clearly he wanted so say more.

"Several dozen more like." She prompted when he didn't continue, watching as he turned in profile to observe her, his eyes flickering to the vial still held in her hand. Claire gripped it tighter fractionally, realising for the first time that he'd turned his back on her whilst she held onto something that could conceivably have hurt him without any intention of stabbing him with it.

He smiled genuinely at her and it carved another hole in her chest to see it on his twisted scarred face, that smile had no place there anymore. "Thank you Claire." He acknowledged and she felt herself whiten, _why hadn't she taken the opportunity?_

'_Because he's not the one you want.' _her mind helpfully reminded her

"I knew I could trust you." He whispered, crossing to her and grasping her face with both his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead whilst she let her hands drop to her sides, trying to shut out her internal demons.

"I found something else in the Company records Claire." He pulled back eyeing her seriously, her interest was piqued mildly. "DNA samples." He admitted, "Genetic mapping." She frowned, not sure what he was getting at. "My father's DNA. Details of his ability..." his smirk grew intense, "and brain scans Claire." She felt her chest constrict at the memory of Arthur Petrelli, her Paternal Grandfather had caused nothing but pain and death... but his ability, she could see why Peter would be so excited about it. So like his own original empathy, only with a nasty after kick; power stealing.

"Were you able to learn his ability?" she asked uneasily, not sure how she felt about Peter having this power, at least Arthur had been sane, rational, he had a plan and a logical one at that, not to mention patience and a fair amount of intelligence. She wasn't sure Peter had anything even remotely like any of those traits left in his tormented mind.

"Yes!" He all but laughed, squeezing her face tighter and drawing her closer as if she was supposed to hug him in celebration, only she remained immobile.

"I have a plan Claire." He promised and she tried not to show the feint surprise; she thought he might be going somewhere with this. "I have another ability, one I picked up a little while ago, it didn't seem all that important, or even useful alone, but that was just a lack of imagination Claire. The man I took it from was almost there, but he wasn't in a position to utilise it like I am... like Sylar could." Claire held her breath, unclear as to what kind of power he was getting at, he and Sylar together had so many... maybe all of them, but she didn't even dare venture a guess at it.

"Power sharing." He admitted grinning like a Cheshire cat, and she frowned, it wasn't what she'd expected.

"I don't understand." She started quietly and he raised his finger pressing it to her lips to silence her as he continued to smile back at her.

"Watch Claire." He rasped his grip becoming so fierce that it should have bruised, a light lit up his hands, flowing over her and seeping through her skin, she couldn't feel pain, but she felt this, like it was seeping into her bones, seeking out every cell in her body and infecting it. Peter let out a hoarse cry at the effort of whatever it was he'd done and collapsed to the floor at her feet, breathing sharply, trying to regain his strength. Claire stumbled away from him, the metal vial slipping from her grip to fall to the ground, rolling intact away from them both.

She felt... different. _'Stronger.'_

"What did you do?" she managed weakly staring down at him as he tried to get back up to his feet, swaying unsteadily on them, but scouring her face for clues that whatever he had done had succeeded.

"I gave you another power Claire."

Her mind seemed to freeze, her whole body falling still, there was no words to comprehend the change those simple words brought in her, she fought the urge to laugh wildly; keeping her lips sealed for fear of giving herself away. She still needed Peter's trust.

"Who's?" she whispered her voice hoarse as she tried not to jump to the obvious conclusion, why else would he have told her about his father's power?

"You already know that Claire." He snorted lightly in amusement, not taking his suddenly sharp eyes off her. "I want you to use it on Sylar. Incapacitate him with the drug, then suck his abilities out of him." His smile was frightening in its shark like quality. "Then we'll kill him together... slowly."

Claire dropped his gaze, turning away from him, thoughts rushing through her, she was impressed, on one hand, Peter really had come up with a plan that could work... if she was willing. The problem lay in that _small_ hitch, was she willing?

Killing Sylar, taking his abilities, would leave Peter all powerful, because she was under no illusions that the moment Peter had used her to get to Sylar, he'd strip her of the ability he'd given her and take Sylar's stolen ones along with it. That simply couldn't happen, Peter was worse than even Sylar now; unchecked and unopposed he'd destroy the world.

'_So noble.' _Her mind sneered at her. _'Now admit to yourself the real reasons.'_

Claire closed her eyes, submitting to her demons. 'I want Peter to suffer too.'

'_Good girl.'_ The dark chuckle bubbled up inside of her, _'So make him suffer, he's already given you the tools to do it.'_

Claire opened her eyes and met Peter's he looked far too smug, waiting for her to no doubt acclaim his brilliance. The lust for revenge burned behind his eyes like a maddening fever, the only flaw in his logic, was the idea that she shared it for Sylar _alone_.

As she stepped forwards, she liked to think he saw it coming, that the man Peter had been had orchestrated this, knowing somewhere in his subconscious that there was only one way it could end; _that he'd let her do this_.

Her hand pressed against his chest stroking as she smiled up sweetly at him, looking inside of her for the source of her new ability. The moment the skin on her fingers brushed his chest she felt the urge to pull, deep within her mind, the idea that she could burrow in and rip everything from him; every cell in his body almost cried out to her to take it. His eyes widened fractionally before they rolled back in his head and he screamed, his whole body spasming and fighting her as she dug into him with an imaginary grip, twisting and pulling until his powers leeched into her... not just one, but all of them. Everything he'd stolen, murdered to keep, it all seeped into her, twisting her own genetics and searing the information into her mind.

Peter collapsed in front of her and she let him fall, keeping her eyes closed whilst she tried to control the amount of power inside of her. So many... too much, her body screamed in agony for the first time in almost two years as it tried to accommodate it all.

But one ability rose to the surface, reigning the others in and settling at the centre of her mind, bringing order to chaos, flooding her with understanding... and the overwhelming urge, for _more_.

"Claire... oh God Claire." Peter's voice broke through the mental upheaval and she snapped her eyes down to the broken shell of the man she'd once loved unconditionally. He stared at his hands, clearly horrified by the memories of what he'd done. "Oh my God. I..." he trailed off great sobs racking his body as he curled up into a ball and clutched at his head tearing at his own hair in desperation and despair. There was probably no curing the madness now she realised; if anything his conscience would likely only take him further off the deep end.

Claire stared impassively at him, it should have felt satisfying to see him like this, but in truth she understood now... could feel what he'd felt, the _need_ to understand, to make connections, to become more powerful, to simply have and be _more_, it was all consuming and oh so very tempting.

"Claire." He whimpered as she crouched down next to him, lifting a hand to stroke through his hair, only he flinched away, sitting upright and scuttling away from her like she was a demon... perhaps she was; only she felt more like an avenging angel than any demon.

"I'm sor..." Claire raised her hand sharply throwing Peter back and cutting off the words he'd almost said to her as he crashed down and immediately crumpled against the wall, the dent letting her know just how hard she'd thrown him, as he gingerly touched his bloodied head.

"Don't you dare Peter!" She snarled, feeling her fingers twitch with powers that she longed to use to tear into him. Peter had killed the only innocent members of her family; he'd done what even Sylar hadn't dared to. He'd made all her suffering at Sylar's hands pointless, degraded her and ultimately destroyed hope itself. No apology could ever make up for that and if he so much as tried she'd rip his tongue from his mouth.

He raised those big brown soulful eyes of his and she felt the smile curve her features, causing him to flinch away from it. One look at those eyes told her all she needed to know, _Dear Uncle Peter_ was suffering, his soul was stained and he was twisted in grief and agony. It felt far too good to watch him like that, to see his shame, guilt, horror and ultimately fear when he raised his eyes to her again. Her mind brushed his and she felt some of her righteous fury drain away, this wasn't the Peter she'd wanted to revenge herself upon... not really. She'd imagined it, hoped to confront the noble, once righteously good man with what he'd become, but now... it just wasn't right, wasn't satisfying; there was nothing she could do to make him suffer more than he already was.

"Claire..." he managed, her name seemed to be all he could manage, but his thoughts were clear enough to her. _'Kill me, oh god please kill me, I can't live like this, can't watch what you'll become because of me.'_

"Stop Sylar." Was all he managed aloud and she stepped forwards, staring down at him, trying to hold on to the memory of who he'd been. His mind dissolved into mindless words and regrets; Peter was gone, whatever this pathetic creature was didn't deserve another moment of her time. But the man he'd been, the man that may have given her this chance, these powers, however unwittingly... he deserved at least a quick death; Claire raised her hand whilst his wide desperate eyes locked on her face, pleading silently. In one violent motion Claire snapped his neck; his body collapsed back, his head at unnatural angle with his wide haunted eyes open.

Claire took a moment to merely acknowledge the death, leaning forward carefully she pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead, closing those pain filled eyes, before she stepped very deliberately over him and retrieved the metal vial from where it had rolled to on the floor. Flipping it over in her hand she steeled herself for what was to come.

Peter had been relatively easy to manipulate, her next target wasn't likely to be so clean cut.

'_You could be a match for him now.'_

Claire gripped the vial tightly, 'Not good enough. I want to be more, better, stronger. I want him to bend to my will for once. Let him feel what it's like to be at someone else's mercy for once!' Her breath quickened and her heart pounded at the very idea.

But there was a new voice inside her mind now; louder, calmer and far more insidious. _'Careful, you wouldn't want to be alone forever now would you?' _

'Yes.' She snapped back at it childishly, refusing to give the idea thought.

_'Think about what an asset he could be... he loves you, you could use that, bend him to your will without him even realising.'_

"NO!" she snarled, clutching her head, attempting to silence every dark thought and just feel. "He'll suffer and when I'm done making him suffer, I'll kill him, slowly, painfully!"

_'Killing him won't satisfy you.'_

"What would?" she hissed, aware that she was arguing with herself and unable to stop it.

_'Make him beg. Make him yours.'_

"Why?" she pleaded desperate to explain her own dark desires that were slowly winning out and stealing the last vestiges of Claire Bennet, the helpless innocent cheerleader from Odessa.

_'So you can understand why this happened to you.'_


	20. Chapter 20

**God Make Me A Stone**

**Chapter 20**

Sylar opened his eyes quite suddenly, the pain he expected never met him and he blinked furiously, dust and grit floated in the air above him and he realised with some disquiet that the top of his trailer seemed to be missing and he was looking into a starless night.

'Claire.'

His hands rose instantly to his head, frantic as he traced his fingers over the intact skull, coming to rest over the tacky residue that split his forehead. Sylar fought the panic such a violation had caused and sat up quickly, grasping a portion of a shattered mirror he held it up to his head and felt his face whiten. Wincing he caught sight of himself in the mirror dropping the shard hastily he turned away, not willing to accept the feelings her attack had forced in him; not without acknowledging the same damage it must have done to her.

He was still naked... he glanced down at his body, smeared in blood and the remnants of their latest coupling. A harsh reminder that she had played on his vulnerabilities, on his weakness for her. She'd really done it, but how was another question entirely. Taking further stock of his body he finally noticed a rather ugly looking sliver of metal that was currently buried in his gut, his eyes cast once more to his destroyed trailer as he grasped it by the exposed piece, tugging it sharply out of his flesh. He winced, expecting pain... only there was none. Sylar frowned, eyeing the ugly wound as it closed before his eyes, without any sensation at all. Just like Claire.

Hesitantly he raised his hand to a half shattered mug beside what remained of his kitchenette and concentrated, flexing his fingers and trying not to let the rage and panic fuel him as the mug refused to move, not even a flicker.

A feminine scream pierced the quiet of the night and he spun his head, feeling fear for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. Sylar froze, cocking his head and listening, but he could hear nothing more, could see no better than he'd been able to before he'd acquired his abilities. Had Claire stripped him of his abilities... of everything?

Patting himself down in panic he realised he had at least one... hers.

Where there was one there was bound to be more, he just had to focus. She'd played with his brain, 'so what?' he was Sylar, he could fix himself. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but that familiar certainty, the understanding, that cool collected part of his mind that always had the answers was nowhere to be found. His eyes flew open and the realisation settled hollowly inside of him. Claire had taken it all, had taken everything that had made him special; leaving him only her ability, she'd even stripped him of his sense of pain... she'd made him just like _her._

Sylar was immobile for so long that when another more masculine plea for mercy broke the silence he actually jumped in surprise. Hesitantly he pulled himself to his feet, reeling still with his almost complete loss of self as he clung onto what remained of his walls. Perhaps were his mind more together he'd have considered finding clothes, but he already felt stripped bare, hollow and empty, what did it matter?

Stumbling out of the ruins of his trailer he got his first wide eyed look at the destruction Claire had rained down over the Carnival that had tried to hold her. How had she done it, any of it? The faint sounds of whimpering, soft cries and the unmistakeable smell of burnt flesh assaulted him.

'Why wasn't he dead?'

The answer wasn't immediately apparent to him, if Claire had 'and it certainly seemed to be the case', somehow gotten all of Peter's abilities, then it was likely she'd had not only the chance but the ability to kill him. Only he wasn't dead. Just violated. His lips pressed into a thin line, he understood that at least; her need to make him feel even a shred of what she must have considered her humiliations at his hands.

Another raw scream sliced the night and hit him in his gut, he recognised Luke's voice somewhere amidst the agony of that scream. He made to move forward then stopped, hesitating, he had Claire's ability to survive, but nothing else... he wasn't the man he'd been, he couldn't stop her.

'Did he want to stop her? Was that his plan?' he closed his eyes, trying to reason now without the hunger and his ability, determine what his true motives were, he'd been so reliant on that constant assurance of his own mind for so many years now that faced with a decision like this he was almost crippled.

Claire had abilities from both Peter's and himself that made her more powerful than anyone, even he had been; then there was that vindictive streak that ran through her waiting to slice like a blade, he'd only been sharpening it by keeping her here. But she hadn't killed him, which meant she had a plan for him, something that required him being alive. However just like Peter, his ability inside her mind would quickly drive her mad... if she'd taken it of course; but there was one benefit of that, crazy people were notoriously bad planners; she might change her mind on a whim. Lord knows she had enough reasons to want him dead; maybe if he'd had more time he could have had her come around, but not now.

"SYLAR!" Luke's scream tore at him and he turned his gaze to fall on what seemed to remain of the young man; half buried in flaming debris, Sylar's legs moved beyond his control and he found himself shielding his eyes from the flames, only to remember dully that it didn't hurt. "HELP!" But he was too late to do more than watch as Luke stared wide eyed back at him, blood bursting from his mouth, as the tottering debris from what looked like the Ferris wheel collapsed crushing him.

Sylar froze looking around, trying to comprehend what he was seeing as Lydia hung suspended in mid air like a marionette, frozen rivulets of blood dripping from raw skin, impaled as she was on a flag pole; frozen in the moment of death forever, on display for all to see.

There were bodies, too many to immediately count, movement and fresh cries of agony forced his eyes away and he focussed instead on Samuel, he was on his back, attempting to crawl away from the slowly approaching Claire, who was casually flicking her fingers and deflecting the razor sharp rocks he was desperately hurling her way back onto him. His breath caught on seeing Claire like that, a part of him wanted to congratulate himself on twisting her into something quite so dark; corrupting her so utterly. But he doubted he could take all the credit, Peter no doubt held some of it... the rest lay squarely on the shoulders of his wretched ability.

"Claire please." Tracy pleaded as she stood on the sidelines, surprisingly relatively undamaged, Claire reached her, staring with blazing eyes at the woman who had once been a friend. "You don't have to do this, you don't have to be this way, you're better than them, stronger. Please stop!" Tracy tried one last stab at diplomacy, but clearly Claire wasn't buying it, she raised her hand and Tracy lost all pretences of friendship, her naturally strong survivor's instinct kicking in. Sylar watched in fascination as Tracy quite literally turned to water, seeming to dissolve into the earth, Claire paused only a moment before stretching out her hand and curling it into a fist. The water seemed to obey her command, drawing back up from the ground, slowly a shape emerged from it, watery hands reaching out and face forming, Tracy's mouth open in a silent scream. Sylar hesitated, in between taking a step forward and seeing how Claire planned to kill a woman who was practically water.

Evaporation... he cringed, watching as Tracy materialised in the flesh, or what was left of it, the heat scalding her once pristine flesh as she lay charred and twisted, only half formed. Claire turned leaving her like that. Sylar closed his eyes, in his early days he'd at least always tried to make it quick.

Edgar materialised, too fast now for his eyes to track, his arms going beneath Samuel as he attempted to save the other man, but Samuel's eyes were barely open, his body almost beaten beyond recognition by his own rocks. The blades flew out from beneath Edgar's jacket and embedded themselves in Samuel's chest, drawing a strangled cry from him but failing to put him out of his misery, the Earth cracked beneath him and Edgar sprung away as Samuel was partially swallowed by the earth he'd tried to command; only his head remained showing. Sylar watched in morbid fascination as Edgar tore his gaze from the old carnie to stare Claire in the eye, apparently waiting, he made no attempt to defend himself, or to run.

Edgar stood up straight and opened his arms wide. "I should have stopped it... I should have tried."

Claire's lips thinned and she cocked her head as if observing Edgar from the inside out. "Run." She hissed through her teeth at him, he frowned for only a second, his features twisting in guilt and gratitude before he fled, vanishing in a burst of speed, before she could reconsider.

Samuel wouldn't be so fortunate, of that Sylar was certain. He felt Claire's rage for the man, the cold calculating flicker of his ability twisting it into something real as she approached the old carnie. Her hand opened and fire bloomed inside of it, making her look remarkably like her mother in that moment. Claire flicked her index finger and the flames engulfed Samuel's head, his strangled cry cut off abruptly as she stood watching the flames lick down to the bone of his skull, the oddest smile on her face.

The distaste and no small amount of fear was evident on Sylar's face, when Claire finally turned her sharp gaze on him, assessing him coolly. But she didn't say a word and that was more chilling than anything as she turned her back on him, dismissing him as she began walking slowly to the exit.

There was something final in that, he wanted to follow her, to grasp her and shake it out of her, but it was never going to happen, Claire was as lost as he had been. The ground began to tremble and he panicked, she was going to sink the entire Carnival, he knew it, because it was just what he would have done and he'd be buried forever.

"Claire!" he called, after her, forcing his shaking legs to move as he stumbled over the cracking ground, her pace never slowing as she stalked away from him, completely unconcerned by having him at her back.

"Claire!" he bellowed, panic beginning, she couldn't leave him, not like this. "Don't you dare just walk away from me!" he snarled, tripping as a piece of rock jutted out of the ground, snapping his ankle in the process. He glared at the offending limb and continued moving as it healed, unhindered by it at least now. Claire turned her head, staring back at him her lips curling up at the edge in a smirk he recognised all too well; but she didn't pause nor did she teleport, fly or simply speed away however, so he took hope in the fact that she clearly was giving him time to escape; apparently she still didn't want him dead, 'would wonders never cease.'

He reached the edge of the Carnival finally, her slow steady pace never faltering as obstacles hurled themselves in his way; hindering his progress until he finally stumbled beside her. She ignored him, raising her arms wide, Sylar turned and watched as the entire Carnival, a place he'd thought of as home was enveloped by the ground, leaving nothing but a smoking crater.

Nervously he turned his gaze to her, trying to convince himself that he understood the girl in front of him, no matter what his ability was doing to her mind, he knew her and he could use that.

"Arrogance was always your problem wasn't it." She laughed at him lightly and he faltered, it wasn't so easy to manipulate someone when they could read your mind.

"Is this it then Claire?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, refusing to fear her. "Have you had your revenge?"

She smiled thinly back at him, stepping forwards and sliding her hand along his torso, an invisible force shoved against him and he felt his knees give way, as she grasped his chin forcing him to look up at her from the undignified position. "Not quite Sylar." She murmured. "But I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

Sylar laughed then, "Couldn't kill me after all?" he laughed harder at her dark expression, "I knew you'd miss me." The pressure holding his limbs firm left him, and he collapsed back chuckling to himself as he stared up at her.

"How does it feel to be powerless Sylar, forced to bow to someone else's will for once?"

"I'll let you know when it happens!" He replied sharply his words dripping sarcasm and daring her to kill him; certain she wouldn't. He was still in control here and she'd damn well acknowledge it.

Her head cocked and she eyed him quietly, his mind whirred trying to anticipate her next move. "So what now Claire hmm..?" he slid forward, grasping her waist and pulling her against his chest as he smoothly got to his feet, so he could once more tower over her, trusting he could anticipate her still. "What will you do with me now I'm so helpless?" he leant closer, brushing his lips against her ear, "Will you keep me too, use me for your pleasure and watch me pretend not to enjoy it?" He sucked on her pulse point, surprised to find the rhythm of it calm and steady; she was even supple in his arms instead of rigid with disgust. "You're just like me now Claire... and you still want me, you want exactly what I wanted."

The laugh came booming out of her and he felt a blast of power slam into his chest, throwing him feet away from her, he grunted in surprise, pulling himself back up to stare at her bewildered, he'd have to become accustomed to her being the dominant one he supposed.

"Silly little serial killer." Claire laughed at him, her voice almost singsong and truly disturbing. "You see I am like you, only with one crucial difference." Her words dripped scorn and he felt the faintest flicker of unease beginning in his gut as her hard emerald eyes held him pinned. "I have no interest in keeping you Sylar; you're worthless to me now. After all I can fix myself now can't I?" she quirked an eyebrow at him with a knowing smirk.

Sylar watched her turn to leave, dismissing him in action just as surely as her words had done; leaving him cold. It couldn't end like this, it was all too fast and utterly uncontrollable; was this what it felt like to be like everyone else?

"You won't survive forever without me!" Sylar snarled bitterly at her back, hating that the panic bubbling in his chest was all too real, threatening to crush his suddenly tangible grasp on sanity.

"Maybe." She called back, vanishing as her last words drifted into his mind, taking hold. _'But we both know you definitely won't.' _

--- _end ---_

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this, especially to those who reviewed as feedback is always helpful in long fics like this. Hope you all enjoyed the ride and will want to come back and read whatever my twisted imagination can come up with next time. I may yet add a drabble I'd intended to add at the end of this fic, but we'll see, I kind of like the ambiguity of this ending.**_

_**Happy New Year guys hope it's a great one and that we get an all new season of Heroes to enjoy :)**_


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